


Black Honey

by lu2stylelala



Series: Angel's Chronicles Pre/Side stories [2]
Category: the GazettE
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-30
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 08:27:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1544267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lu2stylelala/pseuds/lu2stylelala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place within the Angel's Chronicles Universe, sometime after "A Seraph and a Demon" but well before Playing God. (It was originally posted on my Livejournal account: http://black-prophet.livejournal.com.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Asking

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: As this fic continues it will include prostitution, mentioned sex acts, violence/torture (minor character and largely off-screen), harm (major character), murder (minor character and largely off-screen), and smut. 
> 
> Guide: _Tend to be thoughts._ **Flashback to Words of Haven.** _‘Mind to mind speaking/ previous conversations’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So this opening for this fic –where Uruha is asked about his mate- is rooted in the later chapters of the Second Book of ACU, “Games Without End”. As you can imagine he’s only going to tell part of his story. However the next chapters will ensure that you –darling readers- know more of it than anyone in the ACU does (barring Aoi and Uruha themselves). I know this Ch is somewhat awkward but the entire fic will _not_ be this way. Just an opening.
> 
> The vague "She" present in the first chapter is an OC belonging to a friend of mine. She'll be back. Other original characters are in no way intended to resemble anyone.

***

“I know this is intensely personal.” She murmured, looking all too adorable as she ducked her head to try and hide the blush. “But… Since we’re friends, can I ask?”  
Tilting his head to one side, Uruha considered the young woman in silence for a moment. She was right when she said they were friends, and he’d had a feeling that would be the case when he’d first laid eyes on her. It was perhaps a strange prediction, since few could claim to be his friend and fewer still from first-sight, but there was just something about the American that made him fond of her.  
A little unsure of herself in her current surroundings, entirely expected considering all that had changed for her within the last few days, she seemed the sort to jump in front of the train and just deal with the rest as it came at her. The fact that she was asking if she could ask him something merely boosted his affection for her.  
With a regal nod, Uruha shifted slightly in his seat, entwining his hands and resting them on his crossed knees as he spoke in a soothing murmur. “I cannot promise that I will answer, or that you will understand what I say… But yes, you may ask me.”  
“Can you tell me about him?”

Uruha froze momentarily, his beautiful face crystallizing into an icy mask as he battled with demons old and new that were roused by that question. Sooner or later, the questions are always the same. Most times a conversation started under the guise of wanting to get to ‘know’ him; asking what he likes or dislikes. But their deepest interests are in the past, his least favorite subject. At least, his least favorite subject to _share_. Their greatest obsession is the ‘why’ and ‘how’ of his deepest secret, his greatest treasure, his SoulMate.  
Most of them aren’t rude enough to ask outright. Most, because some of them have no regard for secrets or ‘personal’ information. They stride right through the boundaries of propriety and ask flat out. And even Uruha didn’t want to know what happened to them, especially if _he_ found out they had asked. The others? The others flirt with the questions, dance around them like skittish herd animals. Their fear of asking feeds their lust to know, even as it keeps them caged.  
In many ways, they –the others- are the more dangerous breed. A fear and a lust like that, it can twist a man. Can taint a heart, destroy a soul, and eradicate a conscience. Uruha tended to like them even less than the ones that simply spit it out. There’s a scavenger quality to the ones that dance around it, like rival predators looking to steal from a kill.  
Uruha -being very much alive- felt it was fairly easy for anyone with eyes to see why he finds the idea unpleasant, to say the least. He was rather tired of the general reaction to his bond with his mate, the lust to know the why and how of it.  
And it is worse if Aoi is near, always. Then he can practically smell their lust to know, the sick desperation behind it. Those times Uruha looks to his mate, always. It’s a reflex and a need and as vital as breathing. He looks to Aoi and can sense them watching him.  
They can watch, for all he cares, at least until Aoi decides otherwise. As long as they don’t touch, don’t get too near, Uruha is fine with them looking. He doesn’t care that they stare at him, not really; too busy staring at his mate. Because if Aoi is near, he has to look at him. Has to drink the sight of the Death Arch in, the only way he can when there are others around them.  
Yet another reason they’d withdrawn from the public beyond their work with the Committee. The lesser Kin had a tendency to stare and ask invasive questions, and humans were even worse. The trip to Korea spared them such things, at least for the time being. The Resistance here knew better, or perhaps they just lived in fear of his mate. 

Shaking his thoughts off Uruha blinked, his hesitation to answer and the sudden twist of thoughts and emotions apparent to those who knew him. Thankfully it was only the two of them, and she didn’t understand. “You want to know about him?”  
She blushed all over again. “Well… If you don’t mind telling me? Maybe, how you met? What it was like?”  
The clarification made him nod. Of course, of course. To someone on the outside, that would be the first natural question. To some of the ones who were part of their world, it was the first question. Thankfully most of the Koreans seemed to avoid it, understanding what they would have been asking if they’d brought it up. 

That was the last thing you asked, if you ever asked it at all. It was an incredibly private matter, a difficult thing to put into words even if you were willing to share. To someone like Uruha, if you were wise, you never asked. But she was young, and she didn’t know, and they were friends.  
The last time someone had asked him, someone he’d considered a friend, Kouyou had been younger and a tad more temperamental. He’d unleashed a stream of words before he could edit the impulse.  
 _‘I can’t explain what it’s like to find your Mate. I could give you words, but they’d never mean that much to you. There’s no way for you to understand unless you’ve been where I’ve been. And even then, even then it is simply a near thing. The Mate bond is different for each pairing. Each connection is different, as each couple is different. There are mates that may be nothing more than glorified companions. Yes, they hold each others' hearts, but it is a settled bond. A calm one._  
Not ours. No, nothing he and I do can be considered calm. Steady, stable, settled. Those words may describe another Mate-bond, but not ours. This wasn’t a simple bonding, none of that ‘walking down the same street toward the same place as always when suddenly everything is different and you’re walking toward each other’. This was painful and sharp and wild, and it still is today.  
It’s also the best thing that could or ever will happen to me.’

“What you wish to know is no small thing.” He murmured, considering how to explain. Word games, endlessly his life was word games. But in a life such as his, they were sometimes one’s last –or even only- defense. Even among allies, Uruha employed such protections. But with friends?  
 _‘Can you tell me about him? If you don’t mind telling me? Maybe, how you met? What it was like?’_  
He remembered the whispers, the snap and bite of Haven’s rhetoric. **Shadow-soul. Monsters. Less-than-human. Demons in the guise of Angels. Perversion. Unclean.**  
Uruha remembered the wild desperation. _I want to taste, lick, bite. I want him to crawl inside my soul and never leave._ He remembered being wrapped in black wings. _‘Never leave, please.’_ He remembered knowing in an instant that nothing could be as painful as the loss of the other would be. _‘Stay with me… I crave you.’_  
 **Sickness. Madness. Filth.**  
 _Oh gods… I want him inside of me always, with me always, around me always._  
 **Disgusting.**  
 _I didn’t live before him, there was nothing before him._  
 **Whore.**  
 _Dive into me, I don’t want to be alone anymore. Breathe life into me._  
A dark voice like thunderous velvet, like liquid silk. _“Mine. My mate. My only one. Mine always.”_  
A question Uruha couldn’t help but ask. _“Who are you?”_  
 _“Yours.”_

Uruha sighed, summoning a faint smile. “That… That is quite a story you ask for.”  
She nodded, still unsure. “So… You’ll tell me?”  
“I’ll tell you what I can of it.” He murmured, a soft smile taking any sting from the words. “I will tell you parts, at least… But whether or not you understand, that is up to you.”  
She nodded, accepting the words that were both honest and cryptic.  
Something about that unquestioning acceptance made Uruha relax. He would share what he was willing to share, and what she understood was her business.  
“To tell you about him though, first I must tell you about me…” Uruha began, his eyes fixed on things long-past. “And that is not the prettiest of stories…”


	2. The Beauty & The Hunter

Takashima Kouyou must have been a cat in his previous incarnation. Perhaps a cat that didn’t get a chance to use up his nine lives, because they certainly seemed to have carried over to this existence. It had been pointed out to him by more than a few friends that he had more “past lives” than anyone they’d even heard of. That was true enough, he knew. But Kouyou was also aware of the fact that ill-luck dogged his steps. When things were at their high point, he knew to get nervous. The crash always followed.   
And Kouyou had his share of “past lives”, he would admit it in a moment. He’d been a socialite and an art student, a waiter and a musician, a modern geisha, a stripper, an escort and a whore.   
Life turned on you quickly, this he had discovered early on. The world changed sharply and with unprecedented savagery, at least in his case. Still, Fate hadn’t been as cruel as he knew she could be, so he was grateful. A whore was much better off than a citizen of The Haven. And that, he would avoid at all costs. Kouyou had long ago vowed he’d slit his own throat before he allowed to take him. He would never, never go through that hell. Never. There were some things beyond enduring, even for the ‘indestructible’ Uruha.   
With a faint smile Uruha let his friends make their jokes, never bothering to correct them. There was one thing he knew could destroy him beyond a doubt.   
_The other he hadn’t met yet._

**

Moving down the hallway at a commanding pace, Takeshi Laila hesitated at the sight of an open door, pausing outside one of the many private rooms on the upper floors. Known simply as “the Madam” to her clients and “Mother” to her flock, the older woman was silver-haired and small, but ruled with absolute finality. In spite of being in charge of all within the building, she hovered just outside the exclusive domain and cast an assessing glance over the room’s occupant.   
The honey-haired male ignored her for the moment, wielding a comb and flat-iron to finish off his hairstyle. The pale gold, deeper amber, caramel and shadow strands were arranged with care, some locks curled out and others flat-ironed smooth. Layers of bangs were arranged to hide half of his face, the over all effect alluring and slightly mysterious.   
“Going to strut for a bit?” She purred softly, leaning slightly against the frame of the door. “Or lounge?”  
“I thought I’d strut awhile for you.” The one called Uruha replied, considering himself in the mirror as he gave his bangs a last brush and fixed one of the silver hoops in his left ear. With a tilt of his head he could see her reflection behind him, noting how she remained just beyond the edge of the room. “You can come in, if you wish.”  
“And have you remind me how old I am, Kitten?” She tsked. “No, I shall stay here, where even your beauty is dimmed.”   
“I can turn the light up.” He offered with a mischievous smile.  
She huffed, shaking her head. “No, no. You go walk around and bring back a string of admirers that will want nothing to do with my girls when they find out you are unavailable, that is fine.”  
“Your girls are lovely.” He argued, brushing on the last of his black eye-shadow and checking the affect of his cinnamon-colored contacts against the crystalline darkness. A faint line of silver and lavender against the black finished off the look. The overall appearance pleased him.  
Sliding his various brushes and things into the drawers of the vanity and locking them closed, he turned to face her. “I am sure there are many who are more than pleased to pass an evening with them.”  
“They come here for you.” She murmured, watching as he picked up the burgundy silk arm warmers and tugged them on as gracefully as any in her stable could put on stockings. He was the pride of her stable, the rarest of her beauties. “Once you’ve strut, they always come for you.”   
“I am not for them.” He replied, brushing the crystals that gleamed against the silk into order before drawing the other arm warmer up to his elbow. “They wouldn’t want me if I were. We both know this.”   
He watched her lips part as though she were going to argue… Watched her accept the truth and close her mouth again without a sound. They both knew the truth of his words, it had long ago ceased to hurt. Japanese men weren’t supposed to want other men. And Uruha was known for making even the straightest of heads turn. Even without his artistry.  
With it, his beauty was nearly lethal.   
His black nails glinted with freshly dried polish as he smoothed his silk tank top, his free hand lifting the sleeveless duster from where it was draped over his chair. Gently sliding into the reversible black velvet and burgundy silk creation, he ignored the soft chiming of the silver chains that came to settle over his shoulders when the garment was in place. Fidgeting with the double belt around his waist and his black slacks, he turned to face her.   
“Are you waiting for me to tell you how devastating you look?” She teased. “I haven’t found fault with you in, well, time I’d rather not remember.”  
“You are not so old as you like to pretend.” He scolded mildly, pacing across the room toward her with a flowing stride. “Especially to one like me, who knows.”   
“Enough talk of my old self. Go strut for a little while, Kitten. Spare my heart the pain of your beauty.” She muttered, kissing his cheek and letting him slip past her into the hallway. “Be careful.”  
“I always am.” He promised.   
“Don’t leave our Alley.”  
“I know how ugly the world can be, Mother.” He murmured, hesitating on the stairs as he offered her the affectionate title. They all referred to the Madam as ‘Mother’, she was the closest thing any of them had to one, after all. “I will stay near.”  
“Scat then.” She huffed, waving her hands.   
Giving her a final smile Uruha turned and moved quickly down the stairs, threading his way through the tangle of escorts waiting for their assignments. Accepting a few smiles and crooning compliments with a nod and a quick grin, Uruha bid them farewell and then stepped out of the bordello and into the soft glow of the Red Light District.   
Lifting his chin and shielding his heart, Uruha altered his stride to a graceful stalk and moved up the street. _Time to work._

*

Aoi had sensed the sinner, even from a distance. The sudden knowledge of that soul’s actions had made the Dark-Kin grind his teeth. There was no mistaking that one, it just wasn’t possible. His was the kind of sin that tainted the place it occurred just as thoroughly as it tainted the soul that committed it. An unforgiveable evil. Just the sort a Dark Angel like him was drawn to, the worst of the worst. And the call was strong and sick and close.   
The mixed-blood Kin leapt to the hunt without hesitation. Staying to the shadows, ghosting after the other at a distance as they moved down one of the many crowded streets in the Club District. The need for subtlety grated at him, making him grind his teeth and narrow his eyes. He wanted to kill, to purge that sin from the world. But people, there were so many people.   
The Arch Angel in him counseled patience, offered a soothing reassurance that the hunt would end in his favor. The Dark Kin in him howled, furious at being restrained. Dual nature locked in a battle of their own, Aoi allowed himself to close the distance between himself and his prey. They were entering the Red Light District now; he doubted it would be noticed.   
_Patience Aoi… It is only a matter of time now._  
Night had long ago fallen, wrapping affectionate wings around him. His graceful stalking remained unaffected by the darkness; the same could not be said for the now-slowed and occasionally stumbling pace of his prey. The bright lights of the Club District gave way to the creeping shadows and sensual glow of red lights, and the Hunter drifted even closer to the human he stalked.   
Graceful women paced and posed up and down the street. A sea of short skirts, revealing dresses, graceful curves and pale skin. Some were dressed geisha-style kimonos with full makeup, others like school-girls or Lolitas. An array of costumes and makeup styles, hair colors and body types.  
“Good evening.” One woman purred as she strolled toward him, her lithe body encased in clinging silk.   
He smiled, shaking his head in faint negation. Her disappointment was instant, a pout of her red lower lip accompanied by a crooning noise. Shaking his head again, Aoi twisted and slipped past her, moving down the center of the street to avoid the woman waiting on either side.   
Reassuming his confidant stride, Aoi tilted his chin up slightly and focused ahead. The women lurking along the edges of the street watched him hungrily, but didn’t pursue. With his half-shirt clearly visible beneath his black trench coat and his beautiful features, the Dark Kin blended in easily enough with the other souls wandering the streets. Momentarily distracting and then forgotten as the prostitutes searched for clients and the clients examined their wares. He was simply something elegant and graceful that would be easily explained away and forgotten.   
The sinner made a sharp turn, attracting Aoi’s attention as he followed. This particular section of the Red Light district was referred to as Angel’s Alley. A rather upscale corner of this dark world, if there was such a thing. The ones who worked for the Madam were clean and sober, beautiful, well-dressed and discreet. The bordello they worked out of was elegant and somewhat exclusive.   
The same Madam that ruled Angel’s Alley with her exceptionally beautiful ‘Angels’ also provided an escort service that catered to the highest of the high. She was a woman who selected her stock well and trained them to fit in at even the most elegant of black-tie affairs. Aoi knew this, because once –when he’d still cared about social appearances- he’d hired a girl to be his date for the evening.   
Once upon a time, keeping up social appearances had been important to him. The woman recommended by the Madam had been a pleasant companion, beautiful, intelligent and discreet. A pity he had little interest in females, he supposed. It was still fairly early in the evening when he returned the woman to the bordello and paid the Madam the compliments that were her due.

_“If you ever want a true companion, darling.” She had purred with a smile at him. “You come back to me. I have just the one for you, I guarantee it.”  
“I thought you said Hannah was the best you had?” He questioned, surprised not at the initial lie but the fact that she was contradicting it to his face.   
“As my socialite-females go, Hannah is the best.” The Madam replied, her smile widening slightly. “But we both know that is not what you would want in a companion, darling. No, my Beauty would be perfect for you, but he does not do Black-Tie events… And you two would cause quite a scandal if he did.”  
‘Beauty?’ Aoi wondered. ‘He?’  
“Yes, he.” She waved him out the door. “It is late, and I am a tired, old woman. Be gone with your beautiful self before I start to cry over how striking you are. More-so than I or my girls cold ever hope to be. Go now, but remember what I have said.”_

Even now he remembered, though he wasn’t sure why. Shaking it off, Aoi turned his attentions back to the one he hunted, wondering what brought the man to this alley.   
“Why are you coming here?” The Dark Kin murmured. “Your kind are not wanted here…”   
Growling as his prey disappeared into what he knew to be a crowded building; Aoi planted a shoulder against the nearest brick wall and crossed his arms over his chest. Very well then, he would merely wait. His prey couldn’t hide forever.   
And he was a _very_ patient hunter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC "grandmoter" Takeshi Laila is not meant to represent or reflect anyone, she just popped into my head and was seriously glorious as a character. I hope you don't mind having her around!


	3. First Sight

Another hunt successfully ended, another Sinner dead. Patience paid off, as usual. Aoi smiled to himself as he unlocked the door of his apartment and slipped inside, closing the door quickly behind him. Relocking the deadbolt, knob and setting the chain, he sighed in satisfaction as the outside world was effectively cut off.   
Moving the three strides to the first doorway in the hall, Aoi stepped into the washroom and shrugged out of his trench coat, throwing it into the washer on a stain-treatment setting, hoping the blood would come out. If not, he’d simply buy another. It wouldn’t be the first time…  
And he doubted it would be the last.   
Peeling off his boots and leaving them in the small room, he went ahead and stripped off his socks and shirt as well, throwing them into the wash and then moving through his living room and into his bedroom. Graceful fingers made short work of the belts that supported his various tools around his waist, elegant hands stowing everything but the katana and its bloodied sheath.   
Sitting on the simple black stool and reverently setting the blade on the work table, he went through the nightly ritual of cleaning and polishing the ancient weapon. Aoi knew only a fraction of the blade’s history, a fraction of his own history and family legacy. It was the blade of his grandsire, a Dark Kin that had served as the _Dae-a-saeth_ to the Prince of his time. His grandsire, Aoi knew, had taken a dark Kin to wife. It was their son –his father- that had taken up with an ArchAngel.   
The blade and Aoi’s name were his only gifts, beyond a prestigious social career to uphold and more wealth than even a Kin needed. Still, Aoi had accepted those few remaining pieces of his father’s identity, maintaining the social contacts and learning to wield the blade of a DarkKin. Now he was a hunter unrivaled, in spite of his mixed-blood.

Only when his tools were clean did he tend to himself. With a final careful brush of the cleaning cloth over the length of the katana, Aoi slid the blade back into its sheath and reverently placed it on its stand. Bowing slightly to the only remaining tie to his family, the mixed-blood Kin turned away and moved through his apartment.   
Flicking the second switch on the wall as he entered the bathroom, Aoi sighed softly as soft amber light bathed the room. The majority of the bathroom was a glossy black tile, floors and walls and even the counter top drinking in what little light there was. The only source of light was a square white quartz bathtub with its internal LED lighting system nestled into one black corner. Lights gleamed from within the stone, glowing through pale cream and emphasizing dark-amber streaks.   
Considering the tub for a moment, Aoi sighed and flicked the third switch as well, turning on the matching quartz shower wall on the opposite side of the bathroom. Enough light for him to see by as he peeled his pants off and filled the tub with cold water to soak them. The blood splattered down the front of the black denim had already half-dried while he cleaned all of his weapons, but even if the stains remained they would be hard to see. Without pretense he dumped the cloth into the water, content to leave it there until morning.  
Finally nude, he prowled across the glossy floor to the shower stall. Stepping around the softly glowing wall and twisting the knobs to turn on the water, he sighed and rotated one shoulder in the hopes of easing some of the stiffness away. Steam began to flow into the air immediately as hot water issued from multiple shower heads, spilling over his pale skin. Bracing his arms against the tinted window that overlooked the city, Aoi considered the lights below him and the blackness that they stood out against.   
And tried to ignore the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach. _Something is missing…_

**

_Another night, another hunt._   
There was something wrong with the fact that even a DarkKin like himself was getting rather tired of the same old routine… And whether he wanted to admit it or not, Aoi was somewhat tired of it. At least, he guessed that was the reason for his restlessness. The sudden bite of longing was now just another part of his everyday routine, something he had learned to work around.  
He ached for something, something he couldn’t –or perhaps _wouldn’t_ \- name. Something that wasn’t to be found in the hunting of sinners or their deaths… Something that gnawed at him night and day, and was there even when he slept.   
_Today it will go away._ The mixed-blood Kin told himself as he smoothed his dark red shirt and black jeans. _Today it will go away._  
Moving out the door, Aoi shrugged into his black trench coat and locked the door of his apartment behind him, slinking down the hall to the stairs. On the second landing another Dark Kin waited, his blond hair spiked and face half-covered by a bandana. The _Dae-a-thier_ , Suzuki Akira, better known as Reita.   
“Reita.” Aoi rumbled a soft greeting, pausing to incline his head in an easily ignored gesture of respect. Their race was not a flashy one, in that respect. Grand gestures would have made them all the more obvious to the humans around them, and the last thing the Prince of Death wanted was to attract attention.   
“Aoi.” The other murmured, returning the nod. Instantly reaching for a quieter way of communicating, he brushed at the border of the other’s mind. _‘Hunting?’_  
Reflexively Aoi stiffened, hesitating as he felt that gentle touch and heard the whispered question. Forcing himself to relax as their surface-thoughts entwined, the older Kin hesitated another moment before nodding. _‘Yes…’_  
 _‘Again?’_ A soft curiosity flavored Reita’s question. A slight interest in the nightly travels of his brother. Yes, there was something slightly unusual about Aoi’s hunting pattern, his relentless pursuit and unfailing energy.   
_‘Restless.’_ Aoi admitted, albeit it reluctantly. He wasn’t the sort to befriend others, but Reita was one of those rare few. The fact that the blond haired Kin was also the Leader of their kind just made things more interesting. But that was just the story of their lives kicking in, neither of them were the sort to do things by halves.   
_‘Could be the Arch Angel in you.’_ Sensing the reluctance as well as the black rage that was part of Aoi’s nature, Reita withdrew from the connection until it was the barest of whispers, and then sent a gently teasing remark to ease the tension. _‘Maybe you need to go hug someone?’_  
 _‘Fuck you.’_ Aoi grumbled, moving close enough to give the other a playful shove. He smiled in mute thanks for the other’s understanding, never the sort to say something about it out loud. Then again, neither was Reita, which was probably why they got along so well.   
_‘You’re not my type.’_ Reita laughed. _‘Good hunting…’_  
 _‘Thanks.’_ Aoi nodded, gliding down the stairs.  
“Aoi?” Reita called, leaning over the railing to catch sight of the black haired Kin before he disappeared.  
“Hmm?”  
“Be careful, alright?”  
“Yeah… Thanks.”  
Though it didn’t last long, he left the building with a faint smile. Friends weren’t something a Dark Kin had in abundance, but the quality of those few remained unmatched. _‘Thanks, Majesty.’_  
 _‘The next time I see you, I’m kicking your ass for calling me that.’_ Reita grumbled.   
_‘There are worse fates…’_  
 _‘You’re right… Maybe I’ll just give you to my sister.’_  
The mixed-blood Kin laughed out loud. _‘You are cruel, my liege.’_  
 _‘Oh you just wait, Shiroyama… I’ll think of something evil enough for you.’_   
_‘Don’t hurt yourself, Akira.’_  
 _‘You better be safe hunting, Ass… Because I really am going to get you for this.’_  
 _‘I am deeply afraid, Majesty, truly.’_ Aoi taunted. The wordless outrage that he received in reply made him laugh out loud. Sometimes, it was good to have a friend.

*

_Waiting is the worst part…_ The Dark Kin sighed to himself as he sifted through the emotions of those around them. Sinners had a way of grabbing a Kin’s attention, all they had to do was be nearby.   
Aoi leaned against a wall, smoking a cigarette with his eyes fixed unseeingly on the distant stars. They were shrouded by smoke and clouds and more than a few of the city’s own lights, but there if one looked hard enough. Though he preferred the view from his apartment as they seemed so much closer, tucked into an alley in the club district was the next best thing. There were no towering sky-scrapers in this part of town, the tallest building being only three or so stories.   
Finishing the cigarette, Aoi tossed the filter away and put his hands in his pockets. Sliding out of the alley and pacing along with the evening crowd, he wound his way through the club district. No real destination in mind, he simply drifted, frowning as he concentrated more on the emotions of those around him than the path his feet followed.   
It wasn’t too great of a surprise when Aoi glanced up and found himself in the midst of the Red Light District, once again surrounded by those that sold themselves and the rich and powerful who bought them. The tide of emotions and sins here was far stronger than anything in the Club District, then again, he’d been hunting there fairly regularly. Even criminals were afraid of something they couldn’t see when it was killing their own. Moving on was a fairly simple survival method.  
Simple, and ineffective, at least against a hunter like _him_. Pausing momentarily, Aoi stretched and twisted his neck, purring in relief when the vertebra popped and realigned. _Let’s see who is sinning tonight…_  
He found a suitable target fairly quickly, feeling the black rage of his nature rise and sink talons into the feel of the prey. This one, this one had done too many things, gotten away with too much. And if Aoi let him live, he would do more, much more.  
So Aoi would not let him live, it was as simple as that. Smirking to himself he flowed through the tangle of people and down the street. The hunt was finally on, hopefully with this one behind him, the need would abate. Shaking his doubts off, Aoi squared his shoulders and made sure his trench coat hid the katana at his side, shaking his head in answer to one of the women as she invited him closer.  
 _Not interested._ He thought as his black eyes narrowed on the man he followed. Seeing the man approach one of the brick buildings beyond Angel’s Alley, Aoi lengthened his stride. That particular building was not the sort a lone Dark Kin could enter freely… Too many sinners, too many variables.

Stumbling slightly as another need suddenly hit him, Aoi halted abruptly and reached for the nearest wall. He closed his eyes when the brick bit into his hand, fingers clenching the rough surface viciously as his sight and balance wavered and threatened to disappear altogether. Thoughts flashed through his mind, emotions tugging at him and then abruptly flooding away and leaving him drained.  
Shuddering on his feet, Aoi was vaguely aware of a silken brush of thought, a distant whisper he couldn’t quite hear. _What? What?_  
Something was pulling at him, something that managed to drown out the maddening need to remove a corrupt soul from the Earth. Such a thing should have been impossible, was impossible, as far as he had always known. And yet, here he was, letting his prey escape as he leaned heavily against a wall…  
Distracted by the blond beauty pacing down the street. 

 

One doesn’t last long on the streets if they ignore their instincts, so when his finely tuned street-sense warned him he was being watched, Uruha listened. There was a threat to the regard –at least not yet- just a piercing quality of a true evaluation. The weight of that gaze had the potential to be dangerous, or one of the highest compliments he could be paid. Uruha barely contained a shiver. The gaze on him had weight, and a heat that was not altogether unpleasant.   
Wasn’t unpleasant at all, really. Turning slowly, Uruha planted his back against a convenient building and faced the one watching him. As though he were unconcerned, he withdrew a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit it, sucking at the smoking cylinder as his gaze drifted across the street that separated them.   
The watcher was a man, a fairly common fact. Most of the ones that watched him –particularly as intensely as this one- were men. It was simply a matter of whether or not they were after another man. Sometimes they were, sometimes they merely mistook him for another beautiful woman. He’d long ago let that mistake slide, it was a common enough one.   
For the most part, Uruha didn’t really care to guess as to which male was after another’s company. Most gay Japanese men were ashamed of wanting another man, even one like Uruha. Perhaps especially one like Uruha, one who was beautiful enough to be a woman and yet wasn’t. That shame often transferred to anger if one called them out on their secret desire, even if it was through a gesture as simple as a smile when he caught them staring.   
But this one, this one Uruha was willing to guess on. This one was different. There was no “bored businessmen” air about him, and nothing that spoke of a socially-trapped father of two looking to exorcise demons of lust from his flesh. There was no lust caged by shame, and he didn’t seem like the sort to come in search of a playmate for his female.   
Noting Uruha’s regard, the black haired male tilted his head in a gesture that was both appraising and questioning. His hair and clothing were black, glinting in the caressing lights. More than beautiful enough to be one who worked here rather than one seeking company, Uruha half-wondered why someone so beautiful would come to this place anyway. There had to be more than a few willing companions, even if the stranger did have a faint air of danger to go with his dark beauty.   
Deciding to press his luck in the hopes the other would come closer, Uruha removed the cigarette from his lips and smiled. The expression was equal parts flirtation and reassurance. A little bit of _‘yes I’m looking at you’_ and _‘I like what I see’_.   
With the other lurking in the shadows at a distance, even Uruha was unsure of the details. The flashing lights and the press of night didn’t help, playing havoc with his Kin-sharp eyesight. Still, _attractive_ was hard to hide, and this male was certainly that. Even at a distance Uruha could guess the other was very near to his own height, lean and graceful and predatory in a way that appealed very much to the golden male’s tastes.  
And then the other was moving closer and he was filled with a terrible, eager longing. Uruha fought to draw breath as his body rioted, lungs freezing and heart hammering in his chest. His throat was dry and teeth gritting against the need to lunge at the stranger, mind and heart whimpering. _Come to me faster. Let me see you. Let me drink in the sight of you. Water for my soul._  
 _“Oh god what the hell is wrong with me?”_ He snapped at himself, curling his free hand into a fist. His nails cut into the palm of his hand and it was nothing compared to the pain his rioting emotions were inflicting on him.  
“Hello.” The dark-haired male purred, suddenly right in front of him.  
Uruha fought the urge to shudder, blinking at the beautiful stranger as the world tilted sharply on its axis. The demands of his body doubled, breath escaping him in a soft whine. Oh god, how he wanted that graceful male in his bed.   
_Well… At least his body had good taste._


	4. Friendship, Ruin & A Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting here and continuing in future chapters this fic will contain: prostitution, mentioned sex acts, violence, injury and murder, and smut.

A week after the brief encounter with the golden-haired Kin, and Aoi still wasn’t completely sure how he’d managed to pull himself away from the intriguing male. He didn’t exactly remember how their conversation went either, the words hardly mattering when he’d been overwhelmed by the sight and sound and scent of the golden Kin.   
And yes, the honey-eyed ‘Beauty’ was indeed Kin, and an Arch besides. Even Aoi had to laugh at that; he sure knew how to set his sights, didn’t he? An Arch Angel wandering the streets, and coincidentally they met.   
Aoi remembered deciding one thing that night: Fate did so _love_ her jokes. To teasingly offer him a beautiful Arch Angel, and then remind him of his task with the distant bark of a gunshot. The one he had meant to hunt and slay was gone, leaving the body of another sinner in his wake. It was his gun that had interrupted the conversation, and now another’s life was on his soul.  
His prey had gone to ground and remained there for days, but Aoi would catch him eventually; he was sworn to do so. And the mixed-blood Kin knew that when he did, he would enjoy the kill more than many others. With this sinner gone, perhaps he could return to the Alley, and find his Golden One.   
The night after the chance encounter with the Kin, Aoi had invited Reita over for a night of drinking. That in itself wasn’t quite as surprising as the Dark Kin Prince agreeing. Though Aoi didn’t remember most of that evening, he knew that about four bottles of sake -and who knew what else- into it, the stilted silence had disappeared behind an easy enough companionship.   
When all was said and done, the mixed-blood Kin decided that he and the Prince of Death were friends, as they had both lived through the experience. Surprisingly enough, Reita had agreed to this assessment. Granted, there had been a rough patch during the middle of their beer drinking when Aoi hit Reita, but when the Prince demanded to know what he had done the black-haired male had responded with instant honesty.  
 _‘I’ve decided that it fucking pisses me off when you’re right, especially when you’re right without meaning to be right. So, since you are right and I’m pissed off, I hit you.’_ Aoi had replied. _‘And now I can forgive you.’_  
Reita considered him for a moment, smirked, and inclined his head in a nod. _‘Alright then… Thanks for forgiving me.’_  
 _‘Trust me, if I liked you any less, I wouldn’t have.’_ He admitted grimly. _‘This is really going to suck, Akira.’_  
Reita nodded his head, sipping at his drink thoughtfully. _‘Do I get to know what I was right about?’_  
Aoi snorted bitterly and downed another shot of sake, purring at the burn of the warm alcohol. _‘Trust me _Akira_ , I haven’t drunk enough to have that conversation yet… And you’re not drunk enough to hear it.’_  
Reita tilted his head appraisingly, then smirked. _‘Well hell, Yuu… Now I’m intrigued.’_  
 _‘You’ll be pissed when I tell you… I’ll be pissed when I tell you.’_  
 _‘Guess we better keep drinking then.’_  
 _‘That would be best.’_ Aoi muttered, frowning as Reita added a splash of whiskey to a glass. The firelight caught in the amber liquid, gleaming like the eyes of his Arch Angel.  
 _‘Aoi?’_ Reita murmured, noting the change in the hunter’s features.  
 _‘Fuck… I really hate you being right, Rei…’_ He sighed bitterly. _‘Pour me some of that, and then I’ll start talking.’_  
That was more or less the extent of his memory from the evening, though Aoi wasn’t particularly eager to dig for more information. He was sure that he and Reita had drunk far more than was healthy, that was given. Yes, he had told Reita the story of the golden-haired Kin. The Prince had joined him in his colorful swearing, and poured them both more whiskey.   
A week later, and they counted each other as friends. Each night Reita gave him a look that Aoi was all too tired of seeing, and each night the mixed-blood hunter shook his head in reply. No, the prey had not resurfaced. No, he had not gone down to the Alley to see the Arch. No, he did not want to talk –or drink- about it.  
So far, the Prince respected his wishes.  
With a sigh and a roll of his shoulders, Aoi closed his eyes and drank in the night. Scents washed over him, of the city and the night itself, of the people passing him and those long gone. Good souls and bad, and all in a variety of degrees. He ignored the masses, picking out certain strains, certain threads.  
Nothing worth hunting, nothing that called to his instincts as a Dark Kin.  
But there, there…  
 _Soft vanilla… a thin thread of sunlight… Laugher that is a lie, lies that are true… An Arch Angel.  
Mottled with black and the stagnant scent of a Sinner._  
Black eyes snapped open, narrowed in thought. Backing into the empty alley, the mixed-blood Kin crouched, steadying is breathing. Black wings unfurled, stretching until pinions brushed the brick walls to either side of the shadowed street. The alley was far too narrow for him to stretch his wings out, so Aoi let them reach out behind him, sighing as muscles eased. Half-folding the great limbs, he tilted his head upright and tensed, leaping up from the ground and into the sky.  
 _Something happened to the Beauty._

*

There was something beyond infuriating about looking at a situation and knowing that a simple decision on your part could have spared a life. And such a life, too. Aoi crooned in soft sorrow as he knelt briefly by the pool of blood left near the mouth of the street. He could sense the staggering trail that led away, the Arch’s vain attempt to seek help before he bled out. Blood marked the path the Golden One had taken, blood left by the beauty Aoi had come to recognize from a distance.  
 _Uruha_ , they called him. A golden-haired Kin that drew Aoi’s attention in spite of his hardened heart. And now the beauty was injured and dying. This was not right, not at all, and it was his fault.   
So often he saw Uruha “on the strut”, gracefully meandering through Angel’s Alley and attracting attention just by walking around and smoking a cigarette. Aoi wasn’t sure how much whoring the beautiful male actually did, but he certainly did have a share of admirers that always followed his meandering path back to his Madam’s bordello. Aoi knew a great many of them spent their money on the beautiful women that also worked there, but he had no idea how many actually visited Uruha’s rooms as well.  
Though it couldn’t have been many, Aoi had wandered the streets in search of any who had shared the golden-one’s scent. He’d yet to find such a male, which was why all of the Madam’s clients still breathed. If he had caught a hint of that wild honey and spice scent, he might not have been so restrained.   
Something about Uruha set his senses to their sharpest edge, which was why it was inexcusable for him to have let that sinner past. Even being distracted by the Arch that first night, he should have moved faster, hunted more keenly. It was his fault the Sinner still walked.   
And now the blond beauty lay bleeding onto the black street.  
“Who are you?” Uruha whispered, his body half-draped against a shipping crate stacked close to the wall of a building. The blond male had managed to drag himself into that somewhat-secure corner, a hand and arm curled over the ruin of his once-beautiful belly. “Come to finish me off?”  
Tucked with his back to wood and brick, Uruha attempted some semblance of anger and rebellion. Golden eyes narrowed and his jaw hardened, more from attempting to ignore the pain rather than any fear he might have felt toward the shadow he could sense but not yet see. Everything was thick with black, the night wrapped in heavy shadows that grew each time he wrestled his eyelids open once more. It wouldn’t take much to end him, he knew, the knife had done most of the work already. All one really needed was time.   
“No.” Aoi murmured, his voice slightly rough from disuse as well as the scent of blood. To his nose and knowledge it didn’t seem like anything had ruptured internally, but there was little skin and muscle left to keep the other’s organs from spilling onto the concrete. “No, I am not here to hurt you.”  
“Move into the light.” Uruha whispered, faintly recognizing the tone. “I… I can’t see you. Why can’t I see you?”  
“Shhh, GoldenOne.” Aoi purred as he stood, his strides those of a predator, gliding and silent as he moved closer. “Think for a moment, you know why.”  
“Dark-Kin.” Uruha hissed softly as he tried to resettle himself against the crate, hating that he lay so weakly against the wooden structure. Still, he was in no shape to pull himself up.  
If he had more energy, he might have sat up anyway. If he had more energy, he might have been terrified, or more aggressive. He might have fought what he knew had finally come for him, but he just didn’t have the strength. At least the Kin was beautiful, that much he could see: a proud face, pale skin, black hair and black eyes… A black piercing in his lip that would have intrigued Uruha if he had the strength for it.   
He adored piercings, a pity something so gorgeous had to find him in his current state. But Fate did love toying with him, that he was well-aware of by now. He had met this one before, he knew. This was the one that had made his senses riot, and even now as he looked upon the Dark Kin his heart lurched and ached. The need to be closer would have made him sick, if he’d had the strength for it.   
“The shadows, your fading strength, and yes, I am Dark Kin.” Aoi agreed as he knelt an arm’s reach away from the injured male. “And Kin.”  
“I know the Angel of Merciful Death when I see him.” Uruha whispered, eyes drifting closed in a slow blink. “So then, is that why you are here?”  
“No.” Aoi murmured, strength in the denial. Refusal, even. “I am not for you.”  
“Why not, Arch Angel? Do I not deserve a merciful death?” Uruha laughed softly. “Ahh, but I am a Sinner, aren’t I? Is that why?”   
“No, not you.” Aoi murmured, one hand moving to touch the beauty’s cheek. “You may have had sins performed on you, but you’re not a sinner.”  
“What an interesting take on my profession.” Uruha coughed, wincing as it jarred his whole body. What little healing talent he had when it came to his own injuries probably wouldn’t save him, and there was no way to get help. Not if this Kin wouldn’t just go ahead and kill him. “So you’re just going to let me bleed out in the street, hmmm?”  
“No.” Aoi denied again, something clawing fiercely at his heart. “No, I won’t let you die.”   
“What do you care if I die?” Uruha whispered as black descended upon him, and he whimpered softly as fingers of cold-fire drifted over his shoulders.   
“I care.” That dark voice whispered in his ear as an arm curled around his back, the other gently stroking over his stomach and then curling under his legs. “I care, my Golden One. Never doubt that…”  
“It hurts.” He muttered, hating the admittance.   
“Life hurts.” Aoi agreed, lifting the other and holding him tightly to his chest. “Hold onto that pain for a little longer, Beauty. Hold on just a little longer, for me.”  
“I don’t want to hurt anymore.” Uruha argued, the fingers of one hand tangling in black fabric as he tried to make his point. His eyelids were too heavy to lift now, and he didn’t bother to try and move his cheek from where it rested over the Dark Kin’s heart. “I’m tired of it all hurting.”  
“Hold on just a little longer.” Aoi demanded, putting enough of a command in his tone to ensure the injured Arch would obey. “Just a little longer, Beauty, and then I’ll make it all go away.”  
The blond was so still in his arms that Aoi feared it was too late, and his heart twisted anxiously at the thought. The next moment it relaxed enough to hammer in his chest, thrumming under the blond male’s cheek as he tightened his grip on Aoi’s shirt.   
“Do you promise?”  
“Promise?” Aoi whispered weakly, shaken by the fear of losing this stranger.   
Uruha muttered, the tone sulky like that of a reluctant child. “That you’ll make it all go away, if I listen to you…”  
“Yes, I promise.”   
“Promise it won’t hurt anymore.” Now desperate, and perhaps a little fearful. “Promise me that.”   
Aoi turned his head, brushing a kiss to the other’s temple, stroking his lips over amber bangs. His voice was confident and soothing when he spoke with his lips still pressed to soft skin. “I swear to you, Beauty, I won’t let it hurt anymore. I’ll never let it hurt again.”  
Fragile hope and weak shivers. “Never?”  
“Never, I promise.”  
Uruha shuddered, a reaction to the creeping cold that had very little to do with the weather. The warmth of the one carrying him made him curl slightly, trying to press against that lean body and the heat it radiated. Arm still curled over his stomach, he whimpered slightly as a movement made everything ripple with pain.  
“Be still, be still, my Beauty.” The black haired male soothed, and distantly Uruha felt lips brushing his temple again. “We’re almost there.”  
He wanted to smile, the possession in the tone soothing something inside of him. Instead he struggled to understand, words drifting in and out of his mind. “Almost… Where?”  
Aoi moved up the steps toward the door of the Madam’s brothel and blinked in surprise when she opened it for him silently. “Somewhere safe…”  
Uruha accepted the answer, but his fingers tightened on the handful of jacket he’d grasped. “And you?”  
“What about me?” Aoi rumbled, watching the small woman as she ushered him inside with panicked eyes.   
“Will you stay?” Uruha clarified, features tightening as they began moving again. “Stay with me?”  
Aoi shook his head, bearing his burden without aid as the small woman led him silently upstairs and down a quiet hallway. “Not now, Beauty. But I will come back for you.”  
Feeling himself being released onto a flat surface, Uruha tightened his grip and fought the fear tearing at him. “Will you tell me your name?”  
“Yuu… Shiroyama Yuu.” Aoi murmured, gently freeing himself from the clinging grip and placing Uruha’s hand on the bed. “You will be safe until I come back.”  
“Yuu…” Uruha murmured, shuddering as the darkness pressed in on him.  
Aoi straightened, giving the Madam a warning look as she set healing hands to the ruined Arch Angel. On the bed Uruha was a study of black, gold and red against pristine white sheets. He wasn’t sure if the broken Arch had passed out from his injuries or the Madam’s healing had forced it. Still, the urge to give one last order had him bending over the bed, placing a final kiss on the corner of Uruha’s mouth.  
“Hold on, Beauty. Remember you promised.”   
Takeshi Laila glanced up from the torn figure of the one she called Beauty, her sharp eyes narrowed as she considered his savior. Shiroyama Yuu was well known to her, once an elegant and high-paying client like his father had been. She had followed rumors of him disappearing from most socialite events, curious as to why he was throwing away a reputation he seemed to carefully cultivate in his youth. Now, seeing him as an adult and clothed in night-black clothing with her ruined Beauty in his arms, she knew.  
“He will live, Merciful One.” She murmured, the title given out of respect and affection. “I thank you for saving him and returning him to me.”  
Black eyes looked up from the Beauty they discussed, pinning her where she stood. “I return him to your guardianship only temporarily, Madam. When my hunt is done for the one who sought to slay him, I will return.”  
“I am counting on it.” She replied smoothly, sitting on the edge of the bed and beginning to cut away Uruha’s damaged and blood-soaked garments. “He is quite a challenge when he is denied what he wishes, my Beauty. Please go and return quickly, so that you may make him yours.”  
With that, she turned to ignoring her guest. The shirt removed and scraps thrown aside, Madam Takeshi splayed her hands over Uruha’s body and began a soft chant. A minor descendant of the Third Line, she threw herself into her healing gifts and watched the organs and skin slowly mend.   
Not yet gone, Aoi frowned, watching has thin lines of fragile new tissue repaired organ and muscle and slowly began to reconnect the ruin scraps of skin. He had no doubt there would be scars, but his Beauty would be whole and live.   
Stripping his jacket off and laying it beside the healing Arch, Aoi offered the madam a bow with his hand on his Katana. “Watch over him well.”  
Laila watched him disappear through the door, smiling to herself. “Good luck on the hunt…” 


	5. Payment for Suffering & Tales Between Friends

_There. He is there._ Knowledge flared, instincts spiking in recognition of his prey, the hated Sinner had escaped before, and then harmed what was his. _Inexcusable. Time to fix that mistake._  
The mixed-blood Kin gathered himself, banking sharply and wings folding as he fell into a falcon’s dive, streaking toward the ground. There was a certain recklessness in the maneuver, but his kind was not known for their careful nature. A fierce rage fueled his speed until the wind tore cold tears from his eyes and his lungs burned for breath, and beneath him the feel of his prey grew stronger. Still he dove, breaking through the low-lying clouds and their needle-sharp rain. The alley unfolded beneath him, a dank and reeking twist of brick and refuse.  
 _The perfect place for a rat to hide._ And then he could see the human in the alley, his dark clothing soaked by the rain and hair stringy. Able to scent the Arch Angel’s blood that lingered on the human, Aoi hissed. _I see you._  
With a flex of wings that slowed his dive, Aoi curled the black appendages and altered the angle of his attack, turning his body in midair. Wings almost completely folded, he struck with his heels, catching the man in the back and curling hands over the other’s shoulders as his weight forced the human harshly into the pavement. The audible crack of multiple bones breaking made him smile viciously, proof the attack had the desired result.  
The human beneath the raging Kin screamed the agony of his broken bones into the trash-filled puddle they landed in, thrashing in a futile attempt to be free. The resistance merely aggravated his injuries, pulling another pain-filled scream from his throat as he stilled. Breath hissing and spluttering, he weakly gasped for air and sucked it in gratefully when pressure lightened just enough for him to breathe rather than drown.  
“You.” Aoi growled, his blood-boiling rage filling the word. “You harmed what was mine.”  
“What? What?” The man gasped weakly, shuddering. “No, no! I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is just a mistake, a misunderstanding! Please, we can work this out!”   
“No.” Aoi crooned, his tone softly vicious as he braced his heels on solid ground and hauled the human to his feet. Releasing his victim with a faintly curious tilt of his head, the Dark Kin couldn’t help but chuckle as once again the man wound up face-down in the water.  
“Please, there’s something wrong with my legs.” The human whimpered, shuddering as he was seized once again. “I can’t stand, please! Don’t hurt me.”  
“That would be courtesy of your now-broken spine.” He replied conversationally, a dagger coming to hand as he prodded the human’s throat. “If all went well, you should have a few broken ribs too. Now, no screaming, alright?”  
The voice that replied was subdued, but quivered with fear. “Why are you doing this?”  
“I told you, you harmed what is mine.” The light tone disappeared beneath biting rage and a subtle promise of pain, the blade glancing pale skin and leaving a shallow slice of red in its wake. “I intend to avenge that harm.”  
“I need a hospital!”  
“No.” Aoi grinned, gathering his prey and launching skyward. “You won’t, once I am done with you.”  
The human screamed as the ground fell away. “What are you!?”  
“Death.”

**

On the ground once more, Aoi dragged his prey along, growling under his breath. Unmoved by pity, he prowled through a tangle of streets and narrow walkways, snarling each time the mostly-unconscious man drew enough breath to whimper. Finally in a narrow alley he found what he sought, a thoroughly hidden door of rich black wood, tucked away in an alcove. _There._  
Stepping into the small enclosure, the Dark Kin tilted his head, sharp eyesight picking out the faintly carved symbols etched all around the door. As he knocked -three sharp strikes- the symbols flared, red light painting over him. Hanging from Aoi’s grip on his shirt and half-laying in the street, the man whimpered again.  
This time Aoi grinned. “Soon… You’ll be taken care of soon.”  
“Please… Mercy… Need hospital…” The human whimpered, thrashing weakly.  
Aoi’s smile twisted into a shadow of demonic pleasure as he knocked again, four sharp raps just as evenly spaced as the first three had been. More symbols flared, and he shifted back on his heels slightly. “You will be taken care of.”  
The remaining symbols flashed and then died, the door opening soundlessly to reveal an empty stone hallway framed closely by bare walls. The path was close and dark, lit by candles tucked into shoulder-high alcoves every five feet along the stretch. As soon as Aoi and his burden were inside, the door closed soundlessly behind them. With a shrug the mixed-blood Kin folded his wings tightly to his back and followed the line of the hallway, dragging his burden over the stones.  
 _‘Aoi?’_ A pleasure-clouded voice enquired. _‘What brings the Merciful One to me? So late and with a guest as well? My my, what an intrigue. Do come in, I assume you remember the way…’_  
 _‘As always, you are a gracious host.’_ Aoi replied. _‘Yes, I remember the way.’_  
Ignoring the instincts that surged in reaction to the presence behind that voice, Aoi moved further into the Demon Prince’s domain, shuddering as he passed through layers of protection spells that clung him like the strands of a spider’s web. He let the magic pass without remark, remembering the layers upon layers of spells that wrapped all of the building’s entrances. Even if one managed to get in, there was no guarantee of getting to anyone or getting out alive again. The spells were designed to discern one’s purpose and destroy those of ill intent.  
Gathering bits and pieces of the tale from his spell webs, the Demon murmured in intrigue. _‘You bring quite a story to my halls, Merciful Death… And your companion?’_  
Aoi smiled, rattling his catch until the human groaned. Still alive then, good. _‘Part of my story, and tribute for your hounds.’_  
Wicked delight flared along the single thread binding the Demon’s mind to his own, an approving croon rubbing against Aoi’s mind like silk. _‘To my chambers with you both then, forget the receiving hall. I am waiting.’_  
 _‘I will need instruction, Prince.’_ Aoi admitted. He’d never had the honor –dubious though it may be- of an audience in the private chambers.  
A carelessness tinted the reply, as though the Demon waved off the formality. _‘No worry at all, I shall send someone to you.’_  
Hefting his burden, Aoi followed the hall to its end, turning right into another hallway through a suddenly open door. This hall was wide enough that at least three Kin could have walked it with their wings folded, but just as empty as the first. Overhead hung crystal chandeliers set with white tape candles, most of them burned to half-height. More candles lit the length of the hallway, once again set into alcoves.  
Aoi knew the Demons preferred candle light, and in his current state could not disagree with them. Senses heightened from the hunt, his pupils had long ago blown wide, expanding and filling his eyes with light-consuming black. There was a distinctly primal cast to his features, echoed by the tension in the black wings that were folded firmly to his back and the drying blood that spattered his bare arms.  
A servant opened a door at his right, bowing at the sight of him. “The Master requested I show you the way.”  
Watching the other’s eyes dart quickly to the bleeding human he carried and then back to his eyes, Aoi smiled. “Lead on.”

**

The Demon Prince’s lair was a tangle of buildings –nearly an entire block- housing a labyrinth of hallways. The whole of the expanse was filled with tricks, traps, spells and dead ends; all designed to eliminate threats and the occasional unwanted visitor. By the time the servant halted outside a handsome redwood door, Aoi was unsure how far they had traveled, though it hadn’t taken them long. His captive was now conscious and releasing a stream of pained sounds with each movement.  
Both Aoi and the servant ignored him, the man bowing and disappearing down the hall before Aoi had a chance to knock. With a shrug the mixed-blood Kin did so, one dark brow climbing as the door opened silently on its own. _‘You do enjoy your theatrics.’_  
 _‘Such entertainments are all that I have, some days. Would you rob me of them?’_ The tone was amused. _‘Come in, come in already. You must know how such a visit would intrigue me. Do you want me to die of curiosity?’_  
 _‘Haven’t you already done that?’_ Aoi questioned teasingly, entering a small room with a curtain-wall. He paced toward the dark velvet without instruction, making no remark when it too parted to let him pass without the hint of someone’s hand.  
 _‘Died? Yes. Of curiosity? No.’_ The Prince tsked. _‘Do you not know the story?’_  
 _‘I confess I do not seem to.’_  
 _‘Perhaps we shall both share a story tonight.’_  
Rounding the corner Aoi halted, surprised at the elegance of the chambers he’d entered. Beneath his feet a dark redwood floor led to a sprawling rug in shades of cream, caramel and gold. A blackwood four-poster bed sat atop the thick carpet, draped in sheets of similar coloring. There were candles scattered throughout the room, and clusters of them on the black tables to either side of the bed as well as the trunk at the foot of it. A fireplace was set into the wall on one side of the room, twin chairs facing it along with a loveseat.  
A massive black beast that looked vaguely like a wolf sat beside the loveseat, a companion in gray imitating the same pose and watching with identical red eyes on the other side of the couch. _Hellhounds._  
Seated between the two, a slim man with sharply angled hair in shades of silver and black watched them. His eyes were normal looking enough in the flickering candle light, but as he inclined his head in greeting they flashed silver. “Ahh, Aoi, there you are.”  
“Prince.” Aoi murmured, bowing. “I thank you for receiving me.”  
“You bring my hounds food and my ears a story.” The Prince smirked, shifting to lean in a more relaxed manner. “I could hardly resist such an offering, Death Arch. So sit and tell me your tales, I think we are beyond formalities.”  
“I will gladly tell you the story.” Aoi murmured, pacing closer to the lounging demon. “But I am unsure as to how long your hounds’ tribute will live, it was my desire that he suffer greatly.”  
The reclining male tilted his head, considering the human with a flash of silver eyes. “What did he do to you, Merciful One? To rouse your wrath so thoroughly? Quite a tale indeed.”  
“Yes.” Aoi agreed simply, pitching the human before the black hound. “But the shortest version possible is that he attacked and nearly killed my mate.”  
The demon surged upright in his seat, barely remaining on the couch as he perked in interest. “Your mate, what wonder is this?”  
“There is an Arch Angel that calls to my soul, and this human very nearly killed him.” Aoi curled his lip in disgust and lashed out with a well-aimed heel, smirking when the human screamed and the scent of blood made the hounds growl. “If not for my efforts and those of a healer, my mate would have died. I have extracted some of the debt on my own, but I felt the best course of action lay in currying favor with my rather unlikely friend.”  
The mixed-blood Kin inclined his head in a nod, which the Demon knowingly returned. “Very well, I shall let my darlings play with their new toy… But in another room, I think, I wish to hear this story of yours.”  
A black door opened on the far side of the room, though what it led to was shadowed. Leaning forward, the Demon crooned to the black beast and then tapped the gray, releasing them from their posts. “Go play, my darlings.”  
The human whined and shrank away as the two hounds nosed him, his voice wavering. “What are they?”  
Silver eyes flashed red, and the Demon Prince gave a fanged smile. “Hellhounds, oh unfortunate one. These, are hellhounds.”

**

Relaxing into a seat with a glass of wine, Aoi considered the rather unlikely ally and friend he had found in the Demon Prince. One of many princes, the Kin was sure, this man was nevertheless the most powerful of demons that he had heard of. In the proper circles, he was revered and practically legendary, in others he was a mere ghost. Through meticulous work, the Prince had carved himself the perfect reputation. His friends were few, and perhaps –one could argue- just as odd as he.  
Aoi being a prime example.  
“You still ride the edge of the hunt.” The Prince murmured, tilting his head curiously as the distant sound of screams disappeared behind a closing door. The hounds had seized their prey and dragged him from the room, uncaring for his injuries.  
Aoi hoped he was still alive when they started eating him, but had little doubt he would suffer regardless. It was what he deserved for harming the Golden One. “It has been a trying evening.”  
“Nearly morning, now.” The Demon countered, swirling the glass of wine in his hand and stroking it with one claw until the vessel chimed. “Talk to me, Aoi. Tell me of your mate, and this human.”  
“I got careless on a hunt.” Aoi admitted with a sigh, setting his glass aside with barely a sip taken. “It is, distracting, to find one’s SoulMate.”  
“Particularly without looking, hmmm?” Fangs flashed again, silver eyes bright with humor. “You were never the sort to hold out hope for finding your other half… At least, you never struck me that way.”  
“I did not.” Aoi agreed. “But suddenly I was in the Red Light district, and I found it anyway.”  
One elegant brow climbed, the look playfully scandalized. “I am doubly surprised.”  
“You are my friend, do not test that.” Aoi warned, but smiled in spite of himself. “I cannot give it words, so I will not attempt to. But I was hunting, and very careless to let my prey escape, even with so interesting a distraction as my Mate.”  
“This prey…” The Demon murmured, considering his guest. “It is he who you gave to my hounds, isn’t it?”  
Aoi’s jaw tightened. “Due to my carelessness, he slipped away… He was alive to harm what was mine, and I almost lost my mate because of it. I will spend the rest of our lives atoning for that failure… I have already promised to never allow harm to come to him again.”  
“I trust that you will keep that oath without fail.” The Demon waved it away. “You are not the sort to break such promises, Aoi, and not to the other half of your soul. A lie cannot be told between Mates, it is one of the first laws.”  
Aoi’s head jerked up sharply, mouth opening in shock before he recovered. “You know of the laws?”  
The Demon rolled his shoulder in an elegant shrug, grinning viciously as the sound of a death scream and the howl of hounds echoed through the room. “Even Demons mate, Death Arch, remember that.”  
Aoi nodded, blinking in surprise when the Demon stood and paced across the room to a pair of double-doors. Opening them, he sorted through the darkness for a moment and then produced a black coat, humming in approval as he tossed it over his arm. Returning to stand before his guest, he motioned Aoi out of the seat and offered the jacket.  
“I think, with the coming of the dawn, you should return to your injured mate.” The Demon hummed, nodding in approval as Aoi pulled on the jacket. “It will suit. Now, because we are friends, I insist that you take this and your story and return to your beloved. And because we are friends, I trust that at some point you will bring your Mate to meet me, and tell me the whole of the tale.”  
Aoi blinked in surprise, glancing at the wine, and then the coat, then the Demon himself. “You offer me many things in the name of this friendship, and I’ve not yet begun to pay you back for them.”  
“Ahh, but that is how you know we are friends, is it not?” Fangs flashed in a smirk. “I do not ask repayment, not for such simple things as wine and a coat and the aid of my hounds. After all, I enjoy what little I know and the chance for my darlings to have fresh blood, so it is no great thing on my part. But one evening I would have you visit with this mate of yours, and tell me your story. I can only imagine what your Arch is like, smelling of honey and spice as you do. It is, dizzying, to say the least.”  
“His blood.” Aoi explained, considering his dark clothing and feeling grateful the stains did not show. “From when I found him…”  
“I wish to meet him.” The Demon nodded, hugging the bewildered Kin and nudging him gently toward the door. “Now go, return and be sure that he is well. My kind do not do particularly well at first light anyway, I would rather rest.”  
“Highness, I thank you again.” Aoi murmured, glancing over his shoulder.  
The Demon tsked. “We are past formality, Aoi.”  
“Miyavi, then.” Aoi smiled. “You have my thanks, Miyavi, and yes we will return and tell you the rest of our story.”  
The Demon grinned. “I look forward to it, my friend.”  
Aoi frowned, hesitating in the doorway. “I did not get a chance to hear the tale of your death, either.”  
Miyavi grinned. “Ahh then, the short version? In order for a Demon born to somewhat mortal parents to reach their full potential, they must die. In my youth I challenged a Kin to a fight, or perhaps he challenged me. I do not remember, but eventually I was dealt a death-blow. The saving grace was that a young Arch was nearby, and felt the need to save me.”  
Aoi turned, considering the smirking demon in confusion. “An Arch Angel?”  
“Yes, the Arch Angel of Resurrection.” Miyavi’s fanged smile flashed. “It was he that gave me the abilities I have now, in a way. Sadly I remember little of him, save that he smelled of honey and spice.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter introduces a new character, Miyavi, a Demon Prince.   
> [](http://smg.photobucket.com/albums/v155/Latonia/?action=view&current=ImReadyTHX.jpg)


	6. Reality In Dreams

Aoi forced himself to walk out of the tangle of buildings that lead to the Demon’s Lair, turning over the conversation in his mind. Making the trip on foot allowed him to think, as well as to be seen. And though there was no one to see, Aoi knew there were plenty of eyes watching. He let their gazes rest on him without comment or acknowledgement, knowing all sorts of things dwelt in the shadow of the Prince’s strength.  
And as he did not wish to become food for the hounds himself, he took care not to insult any of them. There were a great many protections to this place, and the mixed-blood Kin found himself considering them as he stepped over the well-defined border of Miyavi’s territory. Though it wasn’t apparent to the untrained eye, Aoi could feel where demon-magic ended and regular air began. Turning in place, he bowed farewell to the many unseen eyes, and then strolled calmly down the alley.  
The night’s events had proved interesting, to say the least. What started out as the desire for a firm punishment and evolved into a simple task that curried favor had somehow grown beyond his control. Now he found that Miyavi was indebted to his mate; the idea had startling implications and tempting possibilities. Another tool to ensure that his promise was kept, without a doubt.  
 _No one will ever harm you again, my Uruha._ He promised with a faint smile, launching himself into the air. _I swore it._

*

Miyavi smiled as the feel of the Angel disappeared, a herald to Aoi’s departure from his lands that he trusted more than any account his people might have given him. To witness the Kin flying away was nothing if his presence remained, but it disappeared before one of them could even report he had gone, proof the Kin was eager to return to his mate.  
Refilling his glass, Miyavi silently lifted the vessel in a wordless toast, watching the fire dance in the burgundy depths. _Safe flight, my friend._  
Reclining on his couch with his glass of wine, the Demon Prince’s smile widened when one of the hounds returned, a human hand grasped proudly in his jaws. Tapping the couch in mute summons, clawed fingers affectionately scratched beneath the hellhound’s chin. “Well done, my pet.”  
The black hound tilted its head, leaning into the caress and tail wagging as its master praised it. When Miyavi ceased scratching, the hound lay down at his feet, crunching on all that remained of the human who dared attack the Golden Arch Angel.  
Watching with fond eyes, Miyavi sipped at his wine. “Very well done.”

*

Drifting in and out of consciousness, Uruha was only faintly aware of his surroundings. He knew when his savior was gone, the sudden emptiness in his heart making him reach toward consciousness in spite of the knowledge that his body needed to rest and heal. Inching toward wakefulness he was suddenly pulled into a burning pain that spoke of his injuries and healing magic, and then abruptly thrust under a frigid wave of deep sleep.  
It was quiet and dark and lonely for a long time. The more he fought to wake, the more the darkness seemed to deepen. Eventually abandoning the attempts to claw free of the pressing black, the Arch Angel relented and let the waves thrust him deeper into sleep.  
As Uruha lay there healing, his mind wandered. At first to inconsequential things, how he was injured and what he’d been thinking as he’d meandered up the street like he always did. Soon his thoughts changed, shifting to the words he had heard on a distant street corner.  
A man -perhaps a cast-off from Haven and perhaps just a fanatic, the Kin wasn’t quite sure- had been standing on one of the corners in the Club District, warning people away from the beauties as well as the horrors. Though he did not use names, he made it clear as to what he spoke.  
 **“Listen!”** The raving man had demanded as a businessman passed, the stranger uncaring for his words. **“The shadow-souled beasts are everywhere, even lurking here in this very district! They are monsters! Send them away, kill them if you can, for they are the foulest of plagues upon our earth! Demons in the guise of Angels.”**  
Uruha felt tension stiffen his shoulders, now as it had when he’d first heard the words the stranger shouted. Refusing to look directly at the man, he remained safe behind his sunglasses and raised a cigarette to his lips, taking a comforting drag as he passed the preaching stranger.  
The man spun, hissing at him. **“Foulest pervasion! You’re a monster sent to tempt good people! Unclean.”**  
The honey-haired male staggered to a halt and glared at the man suddenly clutching his arm, fighting the urge to hiss and strike out. “Release me!”  
“Filthy, disgusting whore!” The fanatic spat, eyes wide and red-rimmed. “You should be put to death now, before you can tempt anyone else into hell with you!”  
A slim woman appeared out of nowhere, plowing between them with heavy concentration on the half-rabid stranger that refused to release Uruha’s wrist. The grip broke and the man tumbled to the ground with a hiss, clutching at his limb and swearing the demons were amassing.  
Uruha caught only the faintest glimpse of nearly black eyes giving him a single look over her shoulder, and then the woman disappeared into the crowd. Looking down at the stranger one last time, the Arch Angel huffed and massaged his bruised limb. His voice was low and cold when he spoke, a single sentence before he continued on his way. “If you knew what I really was, your attitude would be different.”  
Without a glance, he left, abandoning the man who still lay on the sidewalk shrieking that sins incarnate walked, wearing the faces of angels.  
 _‘Faces of Angels, indeed.’_ His mind had muttered in bitter amusement. _‘Obviously you’ve not been to the Red Light District. I am hardly the most ‘angelic’ looking one there.’_

His dreams changed, shifting through images he had seen and others his mind merely supplied. At one point he was face-to-face with the Dark Kin once again, instincts screaming even more eagerly than they had originally. There was something distinctly wild to the emotions, a desperation that went beyond desire and became necessity. _I want to taste, lick, bite. I want him to crawl inside my soul and never leave._  
The idea of the safety presented in the Kin’s soul made Uruha’ ache. Even in sleep his body filled with a fierce hunger and need that threatened madness if he resisted for too long. Not that he wanted to resist, if anything he ached to awaken faster so he could find the other Kin. Once again he fought sleep, thrashing and pushing at the weight that restrained him.  
A voice that was new and yet familiar brushed his frantic thoughts, soothing and commanding. _‘Enough of that, my Golden One, enough. You need to rest.’_  
 _Yuu?_ He stilled for a moment, heart stuttering and then surging at an even faster pace. _‘Yuu?’_  
 _‘You should rest.’_ The tone was affectionate, chiding and a little worried. _‘You will not heal if you do not rest. Why do you fight it?’_  
 _I…_ Uruha pushed the limits of his consciousness, trying to reach for the other’s voice. He could feel the echo when his words didn’t quite reach, and it made him frown and press out further, reaching. _I want… ‘I want to be with you…’_  
 _‘Relax, you are with me.’_ The presence drew close, affection and concern weaving through the dark that surrounded the Arch Angel. _‘I have you, and you are safe…’_  
 _‘It… it wasn’t just a dream?’_  
 _‘No, Golden One, and as soon as you wake I will prove it. But for now, please rest?_  
Uruha relaxed, fighting the urge to smile as he felt the brush of feathers and the presence of someone at his side. Somehow he doubted the other Kin asked people to do things on a regular basis, he seemed the sort to give orders and have done with it. The unsurety in his voice was particularly endearing.  
Settling beneath the draped wing, Uruha sighed aloud, his mind drifting off with one last request. _‘Never leave, please.’_  
 _I won’t…_ Aoi watched the golden-haired male with a smile.  
Risking a slight caress to golden bangs so he could study the other’s features, the mixed-blood Kin brushed the strands of hair out of the way and memorized the Arch’s beautiful features. Uruha had relaxed at last, tension bleeding out of his features and fear draining so his muscles relaxed. The fold of Aoi’s wing overtop the younger seemed to still the healing male like nothing else had.  
Resettling himself close to Uruha’s shoulder, Aoi lay his cheek on the same pillow the Golden One used and let himself drift off to sleep. _I won’t leave you…_

Takeshi Laila stood in the hall, peering through the barely-open door as she checked on her patient. She knew the Arch Angel would live, though it had cost much of her strength to ensure it. Still, that did not keep her from worrying about the other’s state as she waited for Yuu to return.  
She was pleased to see that Kouyou was no longer alone, his body thoroughly hidden beneath a black wing that glinted with shades of blue in the soft light. His mate finally pressed close to his side, the Golden Arch seemed to rest easily at last. As she watched, Yuu shifted closer resting at last when his face was buried in the tossed-golden strands of his mate’s mane. Kouyou shifted slightly, inching closer still until he was tucked into the curl of the other’s body.  
“Rest well, dear one.” She smiled faintly, closing the door once more. _‘I am glad you finally found him…’_

*

Kouyou shifted, shoulders tense as he fought off the press of nightmares. He remembered the strength of a stranger and the warmth of black wings, but they seemed far away as terror filled his veins. _He’s gone, he’s gone and there’s nothing I can do to bring him back._  
The thoughts tore at his heart, opening wounds that would bleed him to death without anyone ever knowing. _‘Stay with me… I crave you.’_  
A sudden strength, reassurance. _‘I’m right here…’_  
 _Oh gods… I want him inside of me always, with me always, around me always._  
 _‘Wake up, Golden One.’_ The voice was commanding, stroking over his senses.  
Kouyou fought the pull of sleep, the deep press of healing and exhaustion as he surged toward that voice. Healing threads bound him to rest but he tore at them, wanting nothing more than to hear the voice and see the one it belonged to.  
A dark voice like thunderous velvet, like liquid silk. _“Eyes open, my mate. My only one. Mine always.”_  
Sleep-clouded eyes of dark-honey opened, lashes shielding them momentarily before they met Aoi’s gaze. The question was soft, wavering and unsure. “Who are you?”  
 _A dream?_  
Aoi smiled, straightening back into his seated position as he considered the frantic-pulsed Angel still draped on the bed. “Yours, and no dream at all.”  
Kouyou lifted one shaking hand, wincing as his strength gave. The other caught it, lifting fingertips to his jaw and then rubbing his cheek against Kouyou’s palm. “Real?”  
The DeathArch smiled. “Of course, my GoldenOne.” 


	7. Awakening & Oaths

Kouyou frowned slightly, blinking eyelids that felt heavy even still. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sleeping, but his body insisted he shouldn’t be awake yet. Still, the other’s presence made him cling to consciousness, wanting to know more. “How?”  
Black eyes gleamed, a wider smile twitching over the darker Kin’s lips. “I’m sure you already know the answer to that, if you think on it for a moment.”  
“I thought I dreamed you.” Kouyou whispered. “When I was dying…”  
“You are alive now…” Aoi returned, brushing his lips over the hand he still held to his face. “But that may be so… I have always dreamt of you.”  
The injured Arch shivered, emotions turning his honey-hued eyes to deep topaz pools. The reality of Yuu’s presence crashed over him, his thoughts spurred into a whirlwind. The Angel of Merciful Death had saved him, and that same angel called to his soul even now. He had a mate, he could leave this life, find a better one. Hope leapt in his heart, making him struggle to sit up. “Can we leave?”  
“Soon.” Aoi promised, his free hand moving to brush lightly at Kouyou’s hair. “Be still for now, Beauty. When you are healed, we will go…”  
Reluctantly, Kouyou obeyed, sinking back into the embrace of the bed and tilting his head to better consider Yuu in the limited light. “How long I have been asleep?”  
Satisfied that the other Kin would be still, Aoi relaxed and glanced around the room. Beyond the golden-shaded lamps to either side of the bed, there were candles lit on a distant dresser that provided the only light in the room. Still, the effect was somehow soothing, the soft amber glow framed by ebony. “The few scant hours left of the night I found you, and most of the day. We’re deep into the night again now.”  
“I’ve slept all day and you want me to rest more?” Kouyou seemed to sulk, his lips jutting in a pout.  
Aoi smiled, stroking his fingertip over the Kin’s beautiful mouth and purring. “You need more sleep in order to heal. Now rest, and heal, so that we can go…”  
Golden eyes flared and then shuttered, tucking away whatever thought had brightened them at that touch. Obediently Kouyou settled himself more comfortably, ignoring the ache in his belly. He didn’t want to think about how bad the injuries were. “Will you be here when I wake up?”  
“Not even Haven could chase me away.” Aoi promised solemnly, returning the Arch’s hand to rest on the blankets, and smiling when pale-gold fingers clasped on his paler digits. “Sleep, GoldenOne, I will not leave you.”  
Kouyou fought it, the urge to sleep. Honestly, he did. The idea of staring up into those never-ending ebony eyes was far more intriguing than drowning under the crushing black waves of his dreams. Still, each time he blinked, it was harder to open his eyes. And when he tried to simply stare, his vision wavered and fogged.  
Aoi continued to stare down at the Arch’s pleading eyes, his lips quirking in a half-smile. “I am right here, GoldenOne, so rest. You need it.”  
Kouyou swallowed, sighing before speaking the words that were troubling him in each corner of his traitorous mind. “I’m afraid that if I lose sight of you now, I won’t ever see you again.”  
Aoi tsked, making a negating sound in his throat as he bowed his head enough to brush a kiss over his mate’s forehead. His lips drifted slowly, gliding over one silken brow and brushing affectionately over the Arch’s closed eyelid to hover against his temple. “I swore to you that I would never let it hurt again, Beauty, and I will keep that oath. Any promise I give you, I will hold until my death. Now will you rest, for me?”  
Sneaking one last glance from beneath his lowered lashes, Kouyou smiled. “Alright, Yuu…”

**

Aoi reluctantly pulled himself away from Kouyou’s side as soon as the Arch slipped into a deep healing sleep. The presence of someone outside the door had been grating on his nerves since a few moments after the Arch’s agreement, but he refused to move until he was sure it would not disturb his mate. Now he crossed the room with silent steps, opening the door to be greeted with the presence of the Madam.  
Takeshi Laila looked up at the tall Japanese man, tsking. “Of a similar height too, aren’t you? He always too tall for my taste, and too beautiful.”  
Black eyes narrowed and a low sound rumbled in his throat and chest before he could stop it.  
Surprisingly, the old woman simply laughed and nudged him to one side of the doorway. “Move aside, DarkOne, and let me check on my injured Kitten.”  
“He just returned to sleep.” Aoi hissed, spinning and following her to the bedside with stalking strides.  
“And he’ll stay that way for some hours yet, I should think.” She agreed, gently peeling back the sheets and unbuttoning the loose shirt that Kouyou wore. “I need to be sure the healing is continuing as it should.”  
Carefully sitting on the bed, Laila pushed the pale cream cotton of the shirt aside. With surprisingly graceful fingers she gently lifted the edge of the tape holding red-splashed gauze in place, her lips pursed as she eyed the flesh beyond. Aoi’s nervous energy vibrated at her back, his temper spiking as the shallow slices came into view. She put him out of her mind, removing the gauze and carefully inspecting the injuries.  
Most of the gaping red mouths that had littered Kouyou’s golden body were gone, pale pink lines left in their place. In time they would fade to the pale-silver of old scars, tracks of clouded light against a golden canvas. Blood still spotted some of the wider slashes, the wounds sluggishly weeping red tears in protest of the trauma and the rapid healing she’d pressed upon them. Her skill didn’t let her seal everything as neatly as she could wish, some of the more severe injuries still raw, but none of them life-threatening.  
Aoi was pale as he settled on Kouyou’s other side, his black eyes fixed on the injuries, his throat tight and words strangled. “So many marks.”  
“Many strikes, many overlapping lines.” She agreed, using her index finger to trace the slashes in mid-air. “Here and here, and then this one to this one, do you see? They destroyed the layer of skin and muscle and bit down into the tender organs.”  
Aoi’s hand crept to Kouyou’s, tangling their fingers in an attempt to reassure himself. He did not turn his eyes away from the canvas of gold and red, but his words were for her. “You healed that.”  
“Yes.” She murmured wearily. “They were quite damaged, and my skill is not what a true Arch’s would be. Much of my gift went to repairing those, and then sealing the worst of these external injuries. Some more rest for him will do much for the ones still bleeding, as Kouyou has some natural ability to heal.”  
“And the rest?” Aoi asked as he watched her apply fresh gauze and carefully tape it into place. The snowy wrappings shielded the injuries from him, his temper straining and then quieting as the weaknesses were hidden.  
Buttoning the shirt and gently covering Kouyou with the sheet, Laila hesitated in answering. “When he wakes again, I will check the injuries and attempt another healing. Hopefully my strength will have returned by then, and I can get him ready to eat and travel.”  
Aoi looked up as the woman stood, watching her pace slowly back to the door. “I thank you, for your gifts.”  
Laila hesitated, glancing back at him with a soft smile. “He is like a son to me, Merciful One… I am grateful to you for finding him in time, and for taking him away from this life. It is all I ever could have wished for him.”

**

With Laila’s departure Aoi was once again alone in the room with his mate, and no one to distract him from the fierce possessive instinct that swelled in his chest. The presence snarled at the knowledge that the Arch Angel was not yet well enough to move, sharpening his senses and bringing his killing instinct even higher. The need to get Kouyou somewhere more secure was strong, though he knew their current location was safe enough for the moment.  
Still, the constant hum of other souls grated on his nerves, winding him tighter as the minutes crept past. He attempted to ignore the sounds of those below, thankful for the well-insulated rooms and the seemingly quiet floor. Aoi growled and moved away from the bed, circling the room a hundred times before admitting that it did him no good.  
With a low snarl he resettled himself into the chair at the bedside, withdrawing his bo shuriken from the carrying pouch in his pocket and then producing a whetstone as well. Concentrating on brushing the stone against the black metal, he sank himself into the ritual of caring for his weapons and let time slip away around him.  
His mind calmed as he continued, following the deeply engrained paths of meditation that went with the careful care of his tools. On some level he was aware of his every breath, and those of his mate in the bed, as well as each flex of air and the flare of the candles. Instead of focusing so keenly on the movement of the bodies beyond the room, he carefully refocused and regained control of his aggressive nature.  
With the shuriken done and repacked, Aoi then moved on to sharpening the katana, carefully gliding the stone along the already lethal blade. A false-calm settled over him as he continued with the ritual, serenity creeping in as he disciplined his mind and readied his weapons for what would come.  
He would protect his mate.

Kouyou stirring some time later broke the mixed-blood Kin out of his meditative state, the low sigh of sheets freezing Aoi mid-stroke of the stone. After a moment’s hesitation, he shook off the remaining confusion of the trance, stowing the stone and returning the katana to its sheath. Rising from the chair, he lay the sheathed blade over the seat, and moved to sit on the edge of the bed.  
“GoldenOne?” He murmured, leaning over the supine form of the Arch Angel. “Are you awake?”  
Again Kouyou shifted, but his eyes remained closed and his body relaxed. Aoi half-smiled, lifting one of the sleeping Kin’s hands and cradling it between his own in a gesture that soothed his own ruffled feathers. The touch also soothed his mate, sending Kouyou back into the deep healing sleep that his body so desperately needed. Relaxing enough to stretch out beside the golden Arch, Aoi had just settled his face into the curl of his mate’s shoulder when an irritated bark made his head jerk.  
 _‘Aoi, where the hell are you!?’_ Reita’s growling voice snapped through his mind, worry underneath the harsh words.  
 _‘Safe, for the moment.’_ He muttered, unable to mask the sulky tone. _‘Must you shout?’_  
 _‘My best warrior has been missing for two nights and a day, without contact, and is about to start his second day. I finally am able to contact the ungrateful wretch and what is my greeting? ‘Must you shout?’, yes you ass! I must!’_  
 _‘Careful your sister does not hear you calling me such things, Oh Prince.’_ Aoi grumbled, rolling his eyes before he pushed aside his irritation and relented. _‘Sorry.’_  
 _‘She’s a little young to have the title yet, so don’t even start. And you should be.’_ Reita hissed, and then also relaxed. _‘So, you’re alive… And unharmed?’_  
 _‘My mate was injured, but I’m whole.’_  
The Dark Kin nearly spat in disgust. _‘Your Arch. Was it Haven?’_  
 _‘No… A Sinner.’_ Aoi ground his teeth, pushing the thought of his failure back when it threatened to surface.  
Cold silence was his only reply for the space of several heartbeats. _‘You took care of it?’_  
Aoi let cold satisfaction seep into his tone, rubbing his jaw against his mate’s shoulder. _‘He fed Miyavi’s hounds before he died.’_

Across town, Reita allowed himself a vengeful smile at the thought. He’d not yet had the –somewhat dubious- honor of making the Demon Prince’s acquaintance, but Aoi had told him stories. Though he was sure he didn’t know the half of it, he still had enough of an idea to appreciate the other Kin’s words. Hellhounds were no laughing matter. _‘How long will you be away then?’_  
 _‘As soon as Kouyou is healed, I’ll be back home.’_ Aoi replied, his thoughts taking on a distracted tone. _‘Though whether or not you will see me is unclear…’_  
Unable to resist the urge to needle the older Kin, if only a little, Reita grinned. _‘When do I get to meet your mate?’_  
 _‘When I decide I am ready to share him that much.’_  
 _‘Possessive bastard.’_

Burrowing his face into honey-and-spice scented locks, Aoi smiled. _‘Keep talking like that and it will be weeks before you see either of us.’_  
 _‘I worry about you for two nights and this is the thanks I get?’_  
 _‘I don’t have to ever let you meet him.’_ Aoi pointed out. _‘Be grateful.’_  
 _‘I’m grateful you’re alive, ass. Don’t make me worry like this again, ok?’_ Reita sighed. _‘Take care of that mate of yours, and let me know if you need anything.’_  
 _‘Start stocking up for our next drinking session, I’m sure we’ll need it. Later, Reita.’_  
 _‘You got it. Later, Aoi.’_

**

“Yuu… You’re smiling.” Kouyou murmured, grinning lazily down at the black haired male that was burrowed into his side. Continuing to trail his fingers through his savior’s hair, he laughed softly. “Does that mean you’re awake now?”  
Carefully Kouyou shifted slightly, turning enough that he was lying on his side. Though the freshly healed muscles of his abdomen protested, there was no lasting pain. Still Aoi gave him no reply, remaining unfazed by the movements as though he were asleep.  
“I think you’re awake.” The Arch continued, running the edge of his nails slightly down the back of Aoi’s neck. “Because when were actually asleep, you purred when I pet you, and now you’re still.”  
“Just how long were you awake?” Aoi murmured, his eyes snapping open as he frowned teasingly.  
“Long enough to know that I could get used to waking up with you.” Kouyou smiled.  
Aoi ground his teeth, bracing himself on one elbow as he shot the tempting Beauty a warning look. “Until you’re healed, you shouldn’t say such things to me… And you should be resting so you do heal.”  
“You were sleeping through my last healing and Laila pronouncing me travel-worthy.” Kouyou smirked, rolling onto his back when the DarkKin loomed over him.  
“Healed?” Aoi murmured, sliding one hand under the loose shirt that still covered his mate’s torso. Smooth skin and faintly raised scars met his questioning fingertips, the muscles shivering at his careful perusal.  
Kouyou smirked, eyes glinting. “Yes… Healed.” 


	8. Beginnings & Interruptions

_Healed._ The word hummed through Aoi’s mind, bouncing off the edges of other thoughts and echoing in his brain like a shout in a cavern. He blinked, frowning faintly as it echoed back to him again. _Kouyou was healed. His Uruha, his Beauty, was healed._  
He could feel the lines of scar tissue, the faint map of the wounds, beneath his fingertips. But still, something in him refused to believe it, until he had seen it with his own eyes. Laila had already said that her gift was not so great, that it would take more work to seal all the red back behind golden skin, where it belonged.  
In amusement, Kouyou watched the DarkKin’s eyes narrow in something that was a mix of disbelief and distrust. Disbelief that he was fully healed? A distrust in Laila’s gifts? Kouyou wasn’t sure, but he lifted his brows and widened his eyes, giving his mate a look that was –mostly- without contrived innocence.  
Dark eyes narrowed even further, a low sound of disbelief rumbling in the other’s throat. “I do not trust that look.”  
“What is not to trust?” Kouyou returned in a soft voice, his breath becoming slightly unsteady as he watched pale fingers slide out from under the cloth of his shirt once again. Panic gripped at his guts suddenly, as sharp and biting as the blade that had ravaged him two days past. _’Stay, please stay with me. Don’t leave, not now and not ever… I crave you.’_  
The flash of terror that flared in those golden eyes made Aoi halt, his fingertips lingering just beyond the edge of the clothing. Misreading the fear, he withdrew, freezing when the Arch’s hand shot out and caught his wrist. Tension made the muscles in his shoulders tighten, body poised leaning over the golden-haired one.   
“Don’t.” Kouyou whispered. “Don’t go.”  
“Go?” Aoi growled, tsking as he relaxed. “Trust me, Beauty, I have no intention of going anywhere.”   
Kouyou considered him for a moment, most of the tension draining away from him even though he intended to hold on to it. Yuu hadn’t lied to him, not once. Each moment they’d been together, the DarkKin had been swearing to save and protect him, and not one moment had been a lie. Three days of truth, balanced against the lies that made up the rest of his life.   
Licking his lips, the Arch shifted slightly. “So, what are your intentions?”  
Patiently, Yuu returned the look. He didn’t answer the question, simply waited with a perfect stillness that would have done a statue proud.  
 _Trust._ Kouyou sighed, and released Yuu’s wrist with a faint nod.  
“Better.” The DarkKin murmured, his fingertips sliding up to pluck loose the lowest button on the shirt. Shielded by only the thin barrier of fabric, the muscles in Kouyou’s stomach jumped and shivered, teased by his barely-there touch as the DarkKin freed another button.   
Kouyou smiled faintly, fighting the shiver as he murmured a reply, soft but sarcastic. “So glad you approve.”  
“Sharp tempered thing, aren’t you?” Aoi chuckled, freeing another button and nudging the two halves of the shirt out of the way. He paused to tilt his head to one side, admiring the uninterrupted view of soft-golden skin from the waist of Kouyou’s pants to his throat.  
“I’ve never had it put quite so gently.” The Arch muttered, his tone a mix of teasing amusement and mocking doubt. _‘Sharp tempered indeed… What does that make you?’_  
Noting how Aoi’s eyes lingered on his starred stomach, the Arch felt a bolt of shame shoot through him. Lifting one hand, he splayed it over the injuries in an attempt to shield them, wondering if perhaps it was foolish for the striking DarkKin to overlook them.  
“Ah-ah.” Aoi hissed in disapproval, giving the Arch the look he deserved. “Hiding from me? I think not, GoldenOne. I have seen you as they bled, you will not rob me of the right to see them healed.”  
Kouyou couldn’t help the stubborn expression that flitted over his features, a pout his second reaction. “They’re ugly, the scars.”  
“You are beautiful with your scars, my GoldenOne, they tell the story of a survivor. I found you that night, in the street; I know very well the depths of your courage.” Aoi reminded the suddenly-skittish male, shifting where he was crouched on his hands and knees, lowering his head until his black hair danced over golden skin. “I know how it hurt me –in a moment- to see the proud and beautiful creature I knew injured and near death. And yet? Still so strong, so endlessly proud and regal. Oh make no mistake, beauty, I would rather you had never been harmed at all. But you have survived, which is all we can do when something like this happens.”  
Kouyou allowed the DarkKin to gently nudge aside one hand, and then let the other fall away until it was resting on the bed once more. With the shirt parted, he was left bare to Yuu’s gaze, and the older male seemed to savor every moment of it. Black eyes stroked lingering paths over each scar, committing them to memory.  
Aoi took note of each of the silvery-white lines of the Kin’s injuries, and how they stood out against the otherwise-flawless gold, a permanent tale of his near-death. They made rage flavor the DarkKin’s thoughts, anger stirring low in his gut as he examined those scars. Marks that cut into his mate’s flesh and pride, marks he could have prevented. True enough, the one who had made them was dead, had been punished by Aoi’s own hand and then given over to hellhounds.  
But still, he could not undo those lines.  
 _Never again._  
“You’re thinking too hard.” Kouyou murmured, his hand moving to trace along the DarkKin’s jaw.  
“Sorry, Beauty.” Aoi smiled, bowing his head to brush his lips along each line. “I am so sorry, for these.”  
“I don’t want apologies.” Kouyou replied, shaking his head. “However… If you want to make it up to me, you _won’t_ stop doing that.”  
“What, touching you?” Aoi laughed, his breath flowing over the golden skin in a warm rush and tempting a shiver out of the Arch. “Oh trust me, Beauty, there is no danger of that…”  
A firm knock on the door made them both growl, and immediately two pairs of eyes shot to the door as one voice barked. _“What!?”_  
Takeshi Laila stepped through the door and gave them a firmly disapproving look. “Don’t you bark at me, young men. I may be old, but I’m still well enough to teach you better with this cane of mine.”  
Aoi sighed, lowering his body until he gently lay over Uruha’s form, face pressed gently against the silvery scars. _I suppose this will have to wait._

**

Laila smiled –more to herself than anyone- as she settled into a chair in the small sitting area they had arranged in Uruha’s room. The sensual comfort of the place had not been altered, but the low lights were turned a little brighter and a serviceable chair brought in for her to sit on, facing the couch where her Kitten already sat. Aoi had been nearly glued to Kouyou’s side since her entry, only leaving him on the couch in favor of bringing in Laila’s chair.  
“I’m not hurt anymore.” Kouyou argued softly. “I could have carried it.”  
“That is not the point.” The DarkKin replied. “I want you to rest, and so you will rest. It costs me nothing to bring in the chair.”  
“You’re coddling me.” Instantly the golden Kin pouted.  
Aoi smirked, leaning over for a fierce kiss. “For now, yes. I expect you to accept it in good grace, my Beauty. I will coddle you, and when we are alone I will exhaust you, and then I will let you rest, and then we will train.”  
Kouyou shivered at the idea of being ‘exhausted’, and then frowned as the rest of the words sank in. “Train?”  
Aoi settled on the couch, pulling Kouyou closer to his side until they were pressed together like one being. “I never again wish to see you hurt, Kouyou. If the time comes that you face an enemy without me, I want him dead before I get there, and I want him to not have had the slightest chance to lay his hands on you.”   
Staring up at Aoi as he settled into the DarkKin’s embrace, Kouyou smiled faintly to himself. _‘That suits me just fine… I’d rather not be trapped in bed for three days.’_  
 _‘Do not mistake me, love, you will still be trapped in bed for three days.’_ Aoi replied in a purring tone, though his gaze was politely fixed on Laila. _‘But it will not be due to injury. We will be quite active, I assure you.’_  
Laila watched her golden kitten blush, and smiled faintly as she arched a challenging brow at the DarkKin that faced her with a patient expression. “Are you two quite finished?”  
“Since you interrupted us before we could even start, I trust you know the answer to that question, Madam.” Aoi returned. “Now then, what did you wish to speak to us about?” 


	9. To A New Home

Pacing up the final flight of stairs and following Yuu down the hallway, the Golden Arch admitted to himself he was both amused and grateful for Laila’s interruption. The older woman was embarrassing, that much was true, but she made an excellent point. If they had lingered in her domain, his ‘Sisters’ would have eventually come to call.  
More likely than not, sooner rather than later. When the Madam had mentioned it, the brief expression of horror on Kouyou’s face had prompted a low laugh from the darker male. Of course Yuu could laugh, he didn’t understand what all the women could be like.   
So they had quickly packed a few belongings, and headed out. Now following Yuu to the proper door, Kouyou’s hands tightened on the strap of his travel-bag, watching as Yuu shifted the box to one side as he produced the keys to the door.  
The rest of his belongings were to remain –for the moment- with Laila. Kouyou felt little reluctance in leaving the costumes behind, well aware that the only way he would wear them again was if Yuu requested it.  
And secretly, the Arch was praying his mate would do just that. But, eventually. For now, all he really wanted was a chance for them to be alone, without a sly old woman or a dozen younger ones listening at the door.   
His family was much easier to love at a distance.  
Attention promptly returned to the mixed-blood Kin, Kouyou smiled as Yuu unlocked the door and pushed it open with a searching glance before gesturing for them to proceed inside. Smiling faintly at the handsomely appointed room, Kouyou tilted his head and listened to the older male following him inside and locking the door behind them. The world was once more safely at bay, and suddenly the Golden Arch was alone with his Dark Angel of Mercy.  
His mate.   
Taking a moment, Yuu inhaled deeply and relaxed as the scent of spiced honey slowly blended with the dark storm-scent of his home. Uruha –Kouyou- would settle quickly here, welcome immediately as only the other half of his soul could be. With a faint rumble of approval the Dark kin set aside the box and stepped forward, coaxing the golden Kin to release the strap of the travel bag. “You want to look around?”  
Uruha pulled his eyes away from the work table and its collection of weapons, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous arch of one eyebrow. “Mmm… At the moment? No… I’m only really interested in two locations anyway.”  
Aoi froze at the purring tease, watching as Kouyou braced himself against the wall and slowly peeled off his boots. Tossing them aside with a careless flick of his wrist, the blond Arch straightened slowly, his hands moving to slowly peel away the black trench coat he wore –Aoi’s own, in fact- and drape it on the nearby coat tree.  
“And somehow, I don’t think I’ll need your help to find either of them… But company? That I wouldn’t mind at all.” Uruha smiled over his shoulder and paced deeper into the apartment, his lithe fingers rising to undo the hook-and-eye clasps that kept his black shirt closed over his pale-golden skin. Buttons undone, the blond rolled his shoulders and abandoned the fabric on the floor, tossing an alluring look over his shoulder.  
Aoi’s gaze followed the slow flutter of silk to the tile, snapping back up to trace the leanly muscled stretch of the Arch Angel’s back. He almost –almost- missed the crooning invitation as Uruha hesitated in the bathroom doorway. “I want a shower, are you going to join me or not?”  
Aoi rumbled a warning, quickly stripping off his jacket and boots before stalking after his mate. “You should just go to bed.”  
“Oh no, that’s terribly boring.” Uruha laughed, reaching into the bathroom and flipping a random switch. He purred in approval as he watched the wall of the shower light up, admiring the amber streaked quartz and how it glowed in the midst of the black tile bathroom. The storm-darkened sky beyond the solid-glass wall of the shower was equally sinister, entrapping the small pocket of light in darkness on each side. “I think the shower is _exactly_ what I want.”  
The Dark Kin growled again, earning a soft laugh as the Arch paced into the bathroom and began working his way out of his jeans. “Kou…”  
“Mmm, I’m going to turn the water on so I won’t be able to hear you.” The blond tossed a sexy smile over his shoulder and slowly eased the denim down, offering a peek at the curve of his ass. “You better come in here and talk to me if you want to talk… Though since I’m _recovering_ , you really should offer to get in here and wash my back.”  
“If I take a shower with you, Beauty, I’m going to end up doing a lot more than _wash_ you.” Yuu muttered under his breath, stalking toward the bathroom on silent feet.  
Kouyou laughed. “God, I hope so… Honestly, Yuu, I really do hope so.”

***

Grinding his teeth, the mixed-blood Kin sometimes call ‘The Angel of Merciful Death’ fumed silently. His thoughts raced around in his skull, fanged things snarling and slashing at his thinning self-restraint even as he attempted to bottle and store them. _People speak of self-restraint as though it is an admirable trait. Something one should seek to employ more in their daily life, a character-building technique._   
With his hips braced against the black counter and his hands clenched on the lip of the marble top, Yuu tried to fathom why they would exalt such a horrible method of torture.  
Kouyou stretched beneath the flow of multiple shower heads, the water catching light from the quartz wall and glinting like gold as it fell down on him. Pale gold skin, darker gold hair, just like the quartz wall with its amber streaks. He was a sliver of lighted temptation alone in the black sin-shaded heart of the bathroom.  
And still Yuu did nothing but lean against the sink and drink in the sight with his black eyes. He wanted to drink in the Arch Angel’s light, to let it shine on his soul and force back the madness that stalked in the shadows.  
And at the same time he refused, for so many reasons. His beauty was healing, it was too soon.  
And because Yuu needed the madness, if only because it had just saved his Beauty from near death. Madness and a lust for blood were a Dark Kin’s most-lethal weapons, just as beauty was the Arch Angel’s. If he had let himself be tamed before, it could have meant the death of the one now purring beneath the warm spray of his shower.  
And if he let himself relax now? He could lose what he had so freshly won. Such a thing was not tolerable. And so Yuu stayed, his hands gripping the tile countertop, his eyes fixed on his mate.   
Kouyou stretched beneath the flow of the water, arching slightly as he braced his hands against the lighted wall and stretched. The view he offered the observing Kin was a profile shot, his eyes drifting closed as he basked in the heat with a faintly teasing smile. He could hear Yuu growl in warning over the rush of water, but ignored the sound as he shifted, twisting his hips as though working tension out of his lower back.   
He was hard and aching, and teasingly he let one hand slide down his body to stroke himself.   
“ _Beauty_.” The mixed-blood Kin growled in warning.   
Kouyou pouted, shooting him a sulky look beneath soot-dusted-gold bangs. “If I am, why won’t you come touch me?”   
Yuu had his palms pressed to the glass door before he realized he’d moved a single step. Kouyou was inches away now, separated by a thin pane of glass and the clothing that the darker Kin still wore. “Why do you keep teasing?”  
“Because I want you… And sooner or later I’ll wear you down enough that you’ll come and get me.” Kouyou grinned and stroked himself again, shuddering. “Is it working yet?”  
Yuu growled, peeling his shirt off and reaching for the button on his jeans. “Yes.”  
“Good.” Purring, the Arch licked his lips and watched the darker male strip, his hand still teasingly sliding up and down his shaft. His free hand skated up his body to glide over the fresh-scars over his belly, tracing the new skin and shivering at the phantom pain/pleasure that skated through him.   
“You know you’re supposed to rest, correct?” The Death Arch growled as he pushed the clothes aside, sliver glinting at his throat and ears as he slid the glass door away. He didn’t bother to remove the jewelry, the black ring in his lip glinting dully in the softly-golden light.  
“Maybe I need to be fucked into exhaustion first.” Kouyou challenged, backing away from the water and pressing himself against the wall of glass that separated them from the city beyond.   
Aoi gave a purring laugh, pulling the door closed behind him and stalking through the streaming hot water to pin his mate to the glass. “You don’t have a choice about that, Beauty.”  
“Then why are we still debating this?” Uruha pouted.  
Aoi laughed. “I don’t know, I can think of several things I would much rather do with that mouth of yours.” 


	10. Claiming Beauty

_“I don’t know, I can think of several things I would much rather do with that mouth of yours.”_  
Kouyou stifled a delighted shudder at the growled confession, burying the urge to smile. Instead he stretched and tilted his head, savoring the spray of water still rushing over them. Making his tone sulky, he pouted at the wall and mumbled his reply. “Standing all the way over there? You could have fooled me.”  
“Careful.” Yuu cautioned on a growl, but it was a weak effort at best.   
_Victory._  
Wordlessly Kou arched one golden brow in challenge, letting his mate know exactly what he thought of that warning, before glancing to where Yuu’s palms were splayed against the glass and then to the dark city beyond with its sea of lights. There was a coating on the glass, a mirror-like quality to it, so that no one could see in… But from inside, splayed against the surface, the Arch almost felt like the city was looking in on them. Watching the pale-skinned Death Arch pin his golden form to the glass, watching how Yuui’s eyes spiraled to something darker than black, filled with a feral hunger.   
He shivered at that look, Uruha –whom many had called fearless- shuddered slightly, unable to mask the impulse. It was an instinctual reaction to the almost-alien presence that peered out of his mate’s dark eyes. There was a weight to that darkness, a feeling of _other_.  
It was less an expansion of pupils and more something else, some dark wild thing that crawled out of Aoi’s soul and into his eyes to gaze out at the world. This was Aoi, then, the dark and lethal one they called the Death Arch. Even armed with his Arch pride and stubbornness, Uruha stared at it wide-eyed; shivering at that strange flow of endless black, pinned between cold glass and hot water but a prisoner only to those dark eyes. Aoi rumbled an approving growl of sound and the golden-skinned male shuddered again, desire thrumming through him.   
“No one can see you.” Aoi murmured knowingly as his mate trembled, leaning in to bite playfully at Uruha’s lips and jaw. “I won’t allow it. They can’t touch you, they can’t have you… I can barely stand the fact that they’ll think about you. But right now, at least, no one can see you.”  
“No one but you.” Uruha smiled lazily, stretching and sliding under his mate’s arm and into the corner of the shower, drawn again toward the glittering crystal wall.  
Aoi growled, a wordless sound of disapproval as the Arch Angel momentarily slid out of reach, away from the protective curl of his own body. He had no choice to follow, forcing back the crowding scream of his instincts in an effort to be gentle, to take care of his so recently-healed mate. “Does that suit you?”  
“You seem up to the task of keeping me occupied.” Uruha teased, tossing a laughing look over his shoulder as he splayed his palms against the glowing wall and writhed. He could imagine the effect was pleasing enough the soft light in front of him leaving his back masked in shadows for his mate. “But I suppose there’s only one way to be sure.”  
“Still after me to wash your back?” Aoi prompted with a faint smile, allowing himself a grin when Uruha actually laughed.   
“Or something like that.” The Arch conceded, eying his mate’s amused expression. “Get over here, I need you.”  
“Bossy.” Aoi tsked but followed the command, reaching for a bar of his favorite soap as he moved to pin his mate to the wall. “And somehow I seem to give in to each demand. You’re going to be unaccountably spoiled, I can tell.”   
Beneath him, Uruha purred, shivering and the first brush of his mate’s hands along his hips. “I hope so, God; I really do hope so, Yuu.”  
“I don’t know if I could handle you being spoiled.” Aoi’s tone lowered, crooning and teasing. “Perhaps I should end this now.”   
The Arch Angel laughed, unable to help himself. “Let us be honest, since there is no one else to hear us… Could you stand to have me as anything less?”  
Aoi stilled at his back, not even breathing at the moment, and Uruha glanced back to meet his gaze. Dark eyes searched the Arch’s face, seeking something with no name. A moment later the sternness melted out of Aoi’s expression, his head shaking slightly.  
“The truth then, between us… Only truth.” He admitted softly. “I’ve wanted to lock you away and spoil you since the moment I first laid eyes on you. My Kouyou.”  
Kouyou hummed contentedly, stretching and arching back into the stroke of pale hands over his shoulders, shivering at the rich lather of the soap. The scent of something dark and spiced –part of Yuu’s own scent- surrounded them, fueled by the Dark Kin’s proximity and the glide of silken bubbles over golden skin. “Then it is quite obvious to me this relationship is off to a perfect start… Because I have a feeling I’ll be more than content with allowing you to do just that.”  
Yuu hummed thoughtfully, setting aside the smooth bar of soap in favor of spreading bubbles over his mate’s skin with exploring fingertips. “I’m not so sure.”  
Kouyou made a questioning sound that melted into a contented purr when his mate found and unerringly soothed a knot in the muscle of his upper back. “O-oh?”  
Yuu grinned at the somewhat muddled question, easing his hands down to his mate’s hips and rumbling in approval when Uruha stretched beneath the touch, canting his hips invitingly. “You seem like the sort that would be ill-tempered at being locked away behind glass.”  
“If the glass you’re locking me behind is the window in this damned decadent shower of yours… And you happen to be fucking me at the time, I’m sure I’d be more than happy with playing the pampered pet.”  
Aoi’s low laugh didn’t seem to faze him, without hesitation Kouyou continued.  
“Until then? If you don’t put your hands on me, I’ll be forced to do something drastic. As I was recently on my death bed, I can tell you that you want to avoid that.”  
“Somehow I just knew you’d be pushy as hell.”  
“Don’t lie; it turns you on… And I can _tell_.” Kouyou smirked as he leaned forward, planting his hands on the glittering wall and tossing an inviting look over his shoulder. “So, are you going to touch me, or do I have to kill you?”  
Faced with that, what else could he do? “As my Beauty commands.”

***

By the time he finally had tired of teasing his mate and slid into his lover’s welcoming body, Yuu was purring in contentment. Kouyou keened softly at the rumbling sound of approval, shivering where he was caught between his mate’s warm body and the cool lighted surface of the shower wall. He was fairly certain he wouldn’t be able to delay coming a third time, and the idea was both thrilling and exhausting.   
“Please…” The honey-haired male whined, throwing his head back against his mate’s shoulder and whining when the mixed-blood Kin shifted their bodies with a teasing thrust. “Yuu.”  
“Not done pleading with me?” The Death Arch teased in a dark, silken tone, nipping another red mark onto the curve of his mate’s neck. “That’s all you’ve done for the last hour, my Beauty… ‘Please this, please that’… And what of what I want?”  
“Anything, please god _anything_ Yuu. Just _now_!” Kouyou whined, hands sliding down to grip ate his mate’s thighs as he writhed against his lover. “Please more?”  
“So pushy.” Yuu growled again, thrusting roughly against the begging body, crooning at the tight grip. “I give and give to you, Golden One, Only One. And what? Still demanding more of me?”  
Kouyou whined, head thrown back and his marked throat bared. “Yes, you selfish bastard. I want _all_ of you.”  
And Aoi laughed, dark eyes glittering as he scattered bites over golden skin and his hands gripped his lover tightly. _’You have all of me, SoulMate.’_  
With a soft, keening sob, the Arch Angel shuddered and climaxed.

***

Uruha hummed and stretched, smiling as Aoi nuzzled at his belly and made an adorable grumpy sound. Lifting one hand to stroke his mate’s hair, he grinned as his fingers were nipped at. “Aha… So you are awake down there.”  
“I wouldn’t be if you’d be _still_.” Aoi growled, twisting enough to lip gently at the nearest scar. He traced the pale line to Uruha’s hip and spent some time nibbling at the line of his mate’s hip-bone, stopping when the skin was flushed pink and marked with the faint imprint of his teeth in darker red.  
By the time all was said and done, Uruha was shivering again… Soft whimpering noises escaping his throat with every other breath as his hands clawed at the sheets. His golden eyes were hopeful when they slid open, faintly fogged as he smiled lazily at his mate. “Again?”  
“Didn’t you say something about food?” Aoi asked innocently, sliding out of bed and stalking across the room to his dresser.  
“Food?” The Arch all-out whined, flipping to his belly and gazing after his mate with a frown. “ _Now?_ ”  
“Why not?” Aoi returned innocently, not bothering to turn around as he pulled on clothes and reached for his coat. “Are you coming?”  
“Fine… Fine.” Uruha grumbled as he threw the bed sheets aside, stalking over to the dresser where he’d managed –at some point- to stow some of his clothes. “You’re unbelievable.”  
“We had sex an hour ago… Pillow talk should be a bit quicker to follow up.” Aoi teased gently, offering his mate a shirt.   
“You’re hilarious.” Uruha deadpanned, frowning at him but pulling on the clothing. In some small part of his soul –a very firmly ‘Mated’ part- he was crooning at the opportunity to wrap his mate’s scent around himself.   
It made him hesitate when Aoi reached for the coat he’d been wearing more or less since the Dark Kin had saved his life… Aoi’s coat. “Do you want that back?”  
“What?” Aoi eyed him, clearly bewildered.  
“Your jacket.”  
“Don’t you want it?”  
The blond exhaled, both exasperated and amused. “That wasn’t what I asked. I wanted to know if you wanted it back.”  
“Of course not… I like it better on you.”  
“Well… Alright.” Uruha turned and let his mate slide the sleeves up his arms, wrapping the coat –and coincidentally, one very delicious mixed-blood Kin- around him. “Good.”  
Aoi laughed and kissed his cheek with a roll of his dark eyes, reaching for the coat he had been wearing more or less since he’d given his away. “Foolish.”  
Kouyou eyed it also, faintly detecting some strange hint of spice and smoke… “Where’d you get that?”  
Aoi hesitated as he pulled the warm jacket around himself, pain a faint panic flickering through his face before he winced. “Ah… Hell.”  
“Aoi?”  
“There’s… someone you have to meet…” 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the finale of Black Honey, but there is more still to come in the Angels Chronicles Universe. I hope you enjoy the read.

“‘There’s… someone you have to meet…’ he says.” Uruha is parroting under his breath as he huddles in the plush seat of the smoothly-moving vehicle. He’s safe behind smokey makeup and a lavish costume, swathed in his mate’s coat and tucked against Aoi’s side, but nerves still riot and the scars from his injuries are chilled. “Right… Well _that_ doesn’t sound ominous at all.”  
Without a care for the rain, the sleek black car wound its way through the crowded city streets and around the towering buildings. In spite of the late hour, the city was alive as ever, spilling light into the falling water as it streaked from the heavens down to the ink-black road. Puddles fountained into star-bright waves, spilling over the sidewalk as they were thrust aside by the elegant machine.  
“You know I wouldn’t let any harm come to you.” The Dark-Kin argues gently, pulling the blond closer to his side. “I cannot. So stop that… I am not intentionally keeping things from you. However where we are going; it, it is difficult to explain why this is so important and who we are going to visit. It would be easier to just show you.”  
“Yes… So you’ve said.” Curling closer to his mate, Uruha was deeply glad that the Dark Kin had given him a disbelieving look when he’d mentioned walking. Ten minutes into their drive the rain had flooded down, and he certainly didn’t want to trek through the downpour. Then again, he had no idea where they were going in the first place; perhaps walking wasn’t an option to begin with.  
“The whole of the trip there is not enough time to make it all make sense… And it is too far to walk, anyway.” Aoi murmured, sensing the pattern of his mate’s thoughts. “At least, not if we want to be there anywhere close to on time.”  
“Are we going to be late?” The Arch questioned, tilting his head in a curious gesture. “Is there now a time limit on top of a mysterious trip to Heaven-Knows-Where to meet Haven-Knows-What?”  
“No harm will come to you, my Beauty.” Aoi soothed.  
“But this is important; yes, yes I am aware.” Uruha growled. “Will. We. Be. Late?”  
With a frown, the mixed-blood Kin leaned forward and knocked on the glass dividing them from the driver. The window lowered four or so inches, the driver’s tone muted but efficient. “Yes, Sir?”  
“Will we be on time?”  
“I do not foresee any problems, Sir.” The driver replied honestly. “The Master did not mention a specific time, just that he wished to see you sooner rather than later. I notified him that your arrival was imminent, and he seemed content with that. I will have you to your drop-off point shortly. Are you sure there is nothing else?”  
“I’m sure, thank you.” Satisfied, Aoi sat back and returned his arm to Uruha’s shoulders, ignoring the window as it closed again. He refused to allow his mate’s stiff posture to remain, pressing closer and curling reassuring fingers around Uruha’s neck. “You are safe, my only one… And there you have it from our driver; we won’t be late and therefore have no reason to worry.”  
Shifting in the sweeping black trench coat that threatened to consume him, Uruha smiled and pressed closer to his mate, burying his face in the curl of the collar. The coat was Aoi’s, the same one the DarkKin had draped beside him when he’d left to hunt, but the Arch had yet to return it. He hadn’t even offered that night when he realized it, as Aoi had returned wearing a new coat with a lingering scent of exotic incense.  
When he’d finally remembered to ask about it, Yuu had looked pained and muttered something about owing someone a visit. And now, an hour later, they were in the back of a car as it sped them to who-knew-where. Toward that visit, Kouyou supposed, Aoi didn’t seem like the type to let a debt stretch out between himself and someone else. He’d fulfill it as soon as he was able, he was the unattached sort.  
At least, until Uruha had come along?  
Peering out the window, the Arch frowned as he watched buildings flash by. He recognized landmarks here and there, patching a path together in his mind. They were weaving closer to the Elite District, the richest part of town that was often referred to as the Starlight District. Once upon a time he had lived there, as had Aoi he had learned during one of their whispered conversations. It had been heaven to lie in bed with him for days and trade pieces of their lives back and forth in the quiet comfort of the apartment.  
But it wasn’t to the Elite District that they were headed, rather the tangle of dark buildings and shadow that clustered near it, a shadow of age near the new-glamor. The abandoned buildings and cast-off warehouses formed a shadow-district called The Void, its existence bleeding off into the Red Light and Club districts at one end. The rest wound into the newer warehouses and smaller businesses, forming the fringe of the city that trailed toward the water-front.  
A turn brought them off the most direct path to the Elite, leaving the limo winding through the darker streets. The buildings began crowding closer, shadows woven thick over narrow streets and clogging the alleys. Golden eyes turned over each shadowed corner, wide as the darkness pressed in on them like a living thing. His nerves went taut as the car slowed, Kouyou disappearing altogether as Uruha armed himself, stiffening beneath his mate’s possessive arm.  
“Be still.” Aoi soothed, burrowing his face into the tempting curve of his mate’s throat and brushing a kiss over the claiming bruise that lingered there. “He is a friend.”  
“The friend that gave you this?” Uruha questioned. His golden fingers bright against the night-black of Aoi’s jacket, he gently tugged at one lapel. “The friend that you smelled of when you came back to me? Smoke and sparks and something unknown…”  
“Do not be jealous.” Aoi scolded gently, nipping at the bruise again to remind his lover of it. The mark contented him, so dark against his mate’s skin and so clearly visible to any that looked at him. There was no question Uruha was claimed. “He is no one you need to be jealous of, my Beauty. I am yours, body and soul, don’t you remember? But this one granted me a favor, a courtesy as we are friends. Meet him, if only for me, because I feel that once you did a favor for him too.”  
“I did?” The Arch was clearly puzzled as the car drew to a stop.  
Aoi nodded, opening the door and opening the large black umbrella to shield them on their walk. It was still raining, but not nearly as strong, and he had warned Kouyou that their journey may be a damp one. “Come on, GoldenOne, let us take a walk.”  
The driver bowed as they exited, closing the door behind them and then returning to his own seat. Aoi didn’t wait to watch the limo pull away; instead he curled an arm around his mate’s waist and led the way into the tangle of buildings. Uruha pressed closer to him, warily eyeing the shadows that crowded.  
Viewing the darkness in distrust for a few moments, the Arch finally gave a worried whisper. “How do you know where we’re going?”  
“I have walked this path a few times, and the knowledge of it was given to me directly.” Aoi murmured, taking the lead momentarily as they turned down a corridor and then into a wider alley.  
“The knowledge was given?” Uruha frowned. “I don’t understand. What does that mean?”  
“It is not like memorizing directions.” The elder Kin frowned, searching for the proper words. “It was passed into my thoughts by one I trust, like a shallow version of what you and I can do.”  
The Arch considered it for a moment. “Someone speaking to you, sharing what they knew with your mind?”  
“Yes. They transferred the images into my mind and the memory of the trail, as though I had passed by here many times, even though it was the first time I set foot here.” Leading the way through two more winding alleys and down another narrow street, Aoi smiled when their shoes hit cobblestones. Reaching back, he caught Uruha’s wrist and pulled his mate close to his side. “We’re almost there.”  
Mutely the Arch nodded, his golden eyes almost black behind the darkness of his expanded pupils. His night vision wasn’t quite as strong as his mate’s, but he could see far better than any human. Glancing at the buildings they walked amongst, he frowned as strange characters appeared, black letters tagged on walls like the remnants of a gang’s claim. But there was something stronger than thugs here, something beyond humanity.  
Following the ancient styled road beneath their feet, the Aoi led the way through the final three turns and alleys to an alcove with a black wooden door. He folded the umbrella and tucked it into one corner of the alcove, content to leave it there as they were reasonably sheltered from the dripping rain. Tangling one hand with Uruha to reassure the Arch, he lifted his free one to deliver two sharp raps to the door.  
Uruha frowned through the darkness, staring at the carvings that surrounded the door. When his mate knocked, he jumped as some of them flared, sparking like sudden firecrackers trapped in wood and stone. Aoi glanced back at him, smiling, and then knocked again. More markings flared, and the Arch murmured in appreciation.  
“They’re beautiful.”  
“Demons are better with actual magic than Kin are, at least, beyond our own bodies.” Aoi explained, bowing slightly to the servant who opened the door. It was the same man he had seen at his last visit. “Their protection and warning spells are particularly impressive… Especially in a Den-site for a Royal.”  
“Your friend is royal? You brought me here to meet someone royal?” Kouyou hissed, following his mate into the stone hallway with all its flickering candles.  
“Yes, he is, and yes I did. I don’t see why you’re upset about meeting a royal though, love. After all, so are we, after a fashion, mate of mine.” Aoi turned his head with a laugh, stealing a kiss that worked as a claim and silenced his mate all at once. “Remember that, Beauty. Now come on, he’s been patient enough, and if we’re late he just might kill me.”

*

They were led through the tangle of corridors and rooms without comment, Kouyou’s eyes wide and searching with each turn. Yuu smiled, pulling the Arch closer with an affectionate stroke to his mate’s mind. _‘If you have questions once we have met him, I will answer them as best I can.’_  
 _‘Can you honestly imagine me meeting someone here and not having questions?’_ Kouyou muttered, shaking his head. _‘I would much rather be at home, alone with you.’_  
 _‘Careful with talk like that, Beauty.’_ Aoi laughed. _‘I am not sure how much I can listen to and still behave… And he would be upset if I got sidetracked before he could meet you. I’m surprised he let us get away with the last week, to be honest.’_  
 _‘Three weeks alone with you wouldn’t be enough.’_ Kouyou replied with a grumble.  
 _‘Behave for this meeting, and then you can have whatever you want of me, love.’_ Aoi promised as they turned the corner into Miyavi’s sitting room.  
Kouyou seemed mildly intrigued by the idea. _‘Whatever I want?’_  
Aoi smiled, swearing without hesitation. _‘I swear it.’_  
Once again the hellhounds were present, laying side-by-side at the foot of the bed. The Demon Prince himself stood by the fireplace, dressed in leather pants and a long-sleeved black-silk shirt. One arm was braced on the mantelpiece, a glass of wine in his free hand. He rotated the glass carelessly, sending the burgundy liquid to spinning and releasing the faint scent of alcohol. It was sweet and biting, no doubt an exotic and expensive vintage.  
Aoi noted the mix of casual elegance with amusement, clearing his throat. “Miyavi.”  
The Demon Prince straightened, as though pulled from his fire-side reverie by the low murmur. Aoi guessed he was fully-aware of them from the moment they had set foot in the building, but made no comment. When Miyavi turned to greet them, diamond cufflinks glinted at his wrists, and dark stones and silver rings glinted at his ears. No formal clothing or jewelry, simply what he felt like wearing.  
“Hello Aoi.” Miyavi smiled. “And this then is your mate, hmm?”  
Uruha, who had been quiet up until that point, considered the demon pacing toward them with surprised curiosity. “Ishihara?”  
Aoi arched a brow as Miyavi froze, smiling faintly. “So then, you really do know each other.”  
Miyavi recovered, giving the Arch a fond smile. “I should say so… Aoi, your beautiful mate is the one that brought me back to life so many years ago. In a way, he is the reason I have my throne.”  
Uruha stared at the demon in shock, and the demon Prince himself turned and smiled at the Death Arch. “We have much to speak of then, my friend… My Ally.” 


End file.
